


Wicked Grace

by lyriumveins



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, MMORPGs, Texting, video chatting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 135,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1934703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumveins/pseuds/lyriumveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett Hawke is a simple guy. He likes simple things. Things like playing MMORPGs with his friends. Their guild, Wicked Grace, has been pretty exclusive for a while. But, when the guild becomes interested in recruiting a new member - an elven warrior named Fenris - what used to be a "fun way of passing time" becomes "Operation: Hard in Hightown" (or, as Isabela calls it, "Operation: Get Hawke Laid"). Needless to say, this operation is anything but simple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you / shout out to mary aka snoot, for being an AMAZING beta and also a huge inspiration for this AU!! she makes the magic happen. it's true.

He’s an elf.

He has white hair. Bright white hair, dramatically swooped towards one side of his face.

And his skin? It’s this really nice light brown.

He wears this mix of light and heavy armor, which is probably not exactly ideal for his class (too flimsy for a Warrior, too bulky for a Rogue), but…

He stands out. He catches my eye, even though we’re in the main city on the busiest channel. There’re so many people; I can’t take a single step without being _bombarded_ with lag…

(I eventually just gave up and started staring, listlessly, at the screen in front of me, while cramming sour cream and onion-flavored chips into my mouth.)

“Fenris,” the white text above him says.

“Fenris,” I say.

“What?” Isabela, on the other end of my headset, a hundred or so miles away, is immediately interested. “‘Fenris?’ Who’s ‘ _Fenris_ ’?” She’s in front of a merchant, selling what seems to be an entire guild’s worth of loot.

Knowing her, it very well _could_ be. She has a tendency to hop. From guild to guild.

I mean, she’s in _my_ guild (well, Varric’s guild, technically), but she leaves sometimes.

Her loyalty’s with us.

But she says the others don’t know that.

So she takes what she wants (you’d think she’d have some sort of reputation) and gets away with it.

Every single time.

How does she do it?

I don’t know.

I don’t think I _want_ to know.

“That. Uh. That guy?” I reply, intelligently, as I move my cursor over to him. “He's an elf.” I click him; his stats pop up in a small window under his name. He’s a level 20 Warrior. Huh. He doesn’t _look_ new. 

“Way to narrow it down,” Isabela snorts. “Oh! There! Fenris! I see him now. Ooh, what a little hottie! I’m going to message him right this instant.”

“Don’t you dare!” I yell, lurching forward in a weird little flail; my arm rams into a bottle of water and its contents barely miss my keyboard. “Fuck!”

“Did you send something flying again? Control your limbs, kitten,” Isabela croons. “You should know by now that you can’t grab onto me, despite how much you’d like to.”

“Get a room,” a sardonic voice chimes in, and yellow text appears on the screen – _Anders [_ **magerightsactivist** _] is online_.

“Anders!” Isabela chirps. “And how was your day? Lovely, I presume?”

“Oh, you know,” Anders drawls as I scramble around, using perfectly good printer paper to dry my desk (I know, I’m a mess). “Phone calls. Black market deals. Cats. The like.”

“Exciting,” Isabela replies, clearly uninterested. “Hey, Garrett, if you don’t message him, I will.”

“Message who?” Anders is the uninterested one, now. “Where are you two, anyway?”

“Hightown, in Kirkwall.”

“What?! Why? _Fuck_ that place! It reeks of oppression!”

“I have stuff to sell,” Isabela replies. “A lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t hold on to.” Don’t want to know…

“Sell it in another city!” Anders hollers. “Somewhere in Tevinter, for instance. Why would you contribute to Kirkwall’s economy?! Don’t you know how –“

“Stop getting riled up over lore, you bloody nerd,” Isabela retorts. The two start squabbling. I seize this opportunity to take my headset off and throw the soggy paper away. I stretch, and my entire body cracks. That’s what I get for being folded over my desk all the time.

It’s a miracle that I don’t have bad posture.

Unless I do.

Oh, god, do I?!

I kind of slouch. Is that bad?

Most people slouch a little… right?

I glance at Fenris. He’s still standing there. He’s probably not at his keyboard.

I sit back down and pull my headset back on.

“—plight of the mages!” Anders is still going strong, I see.

This happens a lot. You just get used to it.

“Ah, nothing like logging on to the sweet, sweet sound of Blondie’s soliloquizing.”

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _] is online_.

“Varric! Save me!” Isabela yells, laughing.

Anders does this indignant little huff which we’re all familiar with, but he stops spouting lore at us.

“Consider yourself saved by my very presence.” Varric’s the smoothest person I know.

His charisma’s infectious. It washes over you.

His voice is just so… deep.

“Now, what’s going on in my favorite little guild?”

“Garrett and I were just checking out this elven cutie,” Isabela’s all conspiratory. “Isn’t that right, Garrett?”

“Yeah. Wait! No!” Get it together, Garrett! “I was just looking at him. That’s all.”

“Sure, if ‘looking at him’ is a euphemism for ‘munching on chips while staring at him and breathing perversely into your mic.’ I can hear you, you know.”

Sometimes I kind of hate Isabela.

“Our guild’s lacking. Why don’t we send him a membership offer?” Varric sounds like he has ulterior motives.

“Maker help us all,” Anders mutters. He must’ve caught on to the ‘ulterior motives’ thing, too.

“Again with the lore,” Isabela murmurs. “Varric: that’s a fantastic idea!”

“What?! We don’t even know if he’s in a guild – this is the first time I’ve seen him. And we’re online… **a lot**.” I put emphasis on the “a lot” part, because it’s true.

We have lives!

Kind of.

“Aw, he’s a newbie! Fresh meat,” Varric’s practically cooing. “I just pulled his profile up on the forums. He’s not in a guild… yet. Leave this to me. You guys are in Kirkwall, right?”

“Do NOT randomly add him! No one likes random adders!” I’m very passionate about not randomly adding people.

I have bad memories of being swarmed with guild invites when I was around level 10.

I’m pretty sure everyone does.

It's one of the reasons that we formed Wicked Grace as soon as we managed to scrape together the sovereigns.

(Though most of the sovereigns belonged to Varric...)

Our little group has a bit of a history, I guess.

We’re a small guild.

Very exclusive.

Though… that wasn’t really a deliberate choice we made.

“Or we could just not bother him. He’s obviously not at his keyboard.”

“The correct terminology is ‘AFK,’ kitten.” I can _hear_ the smirk in Isabela’s voice.

“And you call me a ‘bloody nerd,’” Anders remains bitter over how no one cares about lore quite as much as he does.

“Can we stop with this nerd accusation thing? It makes me miss Carver.” Oh, Carver. My dearest little brother. The caricature of a frat boy.

Mother says it’s just a phase.

I’m not too sure about that.

I think Carver’s frat boy phase began the moment he could form sentences, honestly.

Varric materializes next to my character. He’s a dwarf in ridiculously expensive-looking leather armor, clutching a crossbow. He opted out of the “stylish beard” route which the dwarves usually tread upon (I’ll say it again: literally none of us care about lore except for Anders), and, well, honestly? He’s probably the most attractive dwarf I’ve ever seen.

Our characters are more-or-less identical to how we look in real life (we video chat, all the time).

That might seem like a wasted opportunity, but…

It’s nice.

As great as it’d be to _not_ be a monstrously tall, bearded, pasty guy with out-of-control hair…

It’s nice to feel like we’re actually seeing each other.

Of course, we could do that even if we each looked completely different from our characters…

But it’s just great to see Wicked Grace and think, yeah, that’s them. In the… virtual flesh.

Distance can suck, sometimes.

I _did_ add a smear of red paint across the nose bridge of my character, though. In an attempt to seem a little bit more intimidating.

Warriors are usually intimidating, right?

Waving their swords… Breaking things…

I snap back to reality. Isabela and Varric are engaging in a particularly flashy dance, right in front of me.

They’re attracting a crowd and laughing their asses off, but Fenris remains motionless. Yeah, he’s definitely not at his keyboard.

“Yeah, he’ll want to join our guild,” Anders mutters.

“Maybe we should wait until everyone’s online before we go hassling innocent bystanders,” I suggest. It’s not like I’d forget his name any time soon.

Fenris…

It just sounds so familiar.

“Please! We’re doing this for you, kitten!” Isabela’s having the time of her life. “I’ve never seen you interested in anyone! Ever!”

“Technically, you’ve _still_ never seen Garrett being interested in anyone. You just _think_ you _heard_ him.” Anders is still grumbling. “Also, this _Fenris_ is another player on an increasingly overrated MMO. I don’t think he qualifies for the type of ‘interest’ you have in mind.”

“Ouch!” Varric chuckles. “These low blows! We all give into our private little fantasies, sometimes.”

“What fantasies?” _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _] is online._ She appears right next to me – a thin, black-haired elf, with adorably huge green eyes and a staff bigger than she is. “Hello, everyone!”

“Hey, Daisy. Hawke’s hopelessly in love with that white-haired elf standing over there,” Varric states, in a matter-of-fact manner. “It’s a long story, filled with sighs.”

Merrill gasps. “Why do all the fun things happen while I’m at work?! It’s so unfair!”

“Varric, you’ve been online for five minutes.” These people… “Also, not in love! He just has good character creation instincts, or something.”

“Or something,” Isabela, Anders and Varric say, in unison.

I start laughing, despite myself. “Stop,” I say; since I’m laughing, it doesn’t have the desired effect on them.

“Are you kidding me?!” Anders exclaims. “I just looked him up. Another warrior? _Really_?”

“Is that bad?” I ask.

“We already have two warriors!” Anders is indignant. “You and Aveline. We don’t need a third!”

“Since when do you care?” Isabela drawls. “Hawke can’t tank for shit, anyway.”

“Hey! I _can_ tank for shit! I tank for shit all the time!”

“Sure,” Isabela says. A message pops up on the bottom left of my screen:

  


_Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : luv u hawkey <3

  


Like I said, sometimes I hate Isabela.

“Is it Fenris? That man? He’s lovely!” Merrill is delighted. I can hear her clap her hands together. “This is so exciting! Will he join the guild? I’d love another elf! Oooh!”

“We should get another mage,” Anders says, apparently oblivious to Merrill’s delight. “It’s bad enough that we have one who _stabs herself_ to cast spells.”

“Hey! I know what I’m doing!” Merrill insists. “Besides, one healer’s enough, right?”  


Anders makes a frustrated noise. Throaty gurgling is involved.

“Oh, calm down. We don’t need any more healers when we have one as good as you.” Like I said, Varric is the most charismatic person alive.

“Sure,” Anders mumbles, but he’s probably bright red behind his monitor. I can sense it.

I’m bright red, and that comment wasn’t even directed at me.

It’s the voice! I’m telling you.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I think we should _definitely_ invite Fenris!” Merrill runs up to Fenris.

“ _MERRILL,_ ” I catch myself before I start flailing and knocking over things again, “Don’t – don’t creep up on him!”

“We haven’t invited anyone new in ages! It’s always been the old crew!” Merrill’s character grins and strikes a pose; one hand’s on her hip while the other does a little wave.

Isabela flashes her a thumbs-up.

Please, Fenris. Don’t be at your keyboard. Please.

I know you can’t hear what we’re saying, or what these people are plotting…

But, still.

“Have you messaged him yet? I’m going to –“

And, just like that, Fenris moves.

The chat goes silent.

“What? What happened?” Anders, faithful to his Kirkwall boycott, is oblivious.

I want the earth to open up and swallow me.

I’m not even sure why.

I just do.

Fenris runs away from Merrill and towards Hightown’s exit.

Four pairs of eyes follow him. Then, he vanishes.

“Wait! He’s getting away. What do we do?! I didn’t message him yet!” As if on cue, Merrill starts panicking.

“What happened?!” Anders demands.

“We give chase!” Isabela hollers.

“We do _not_ give chase!” I holler.

“Did he leave?” Anders laughs.

“It’s not funny!” Merrill is surprisingly emotional. “I wanted another elf!”

“Hold up,” Varric says. “Let’s all take a few deep breaths –“

Isabela dashes off towards the exit.

“ _ISABELA_ –“

“Hawke. Rivaini. Deep breaths.”

I comply. Isabela stops running. She complies, as well.

More theatrically (and sensually) than I do.

But deep breathing _is_ going on.

“Look, it’s simple,” Varric is using his ‘patiently-dealing-with-guildmates’ voice. “We know his name, right? So we’ll be able to find him.”

“But! But! There’s thousands of players, Varric!” Isabela exclaims.

“You just want to chase him.”

“…”

“I’m on to you, Rivaini.”

“Fine,” Isabela grumbles. “But! Garrett Hawke, you’ll never be a true man if you don’t go after what you want!”

“I don’t want anything!” I exclaim, and my voice does that awkward thing where it goes up to a shamefully high pitch because I’m nervous.

“I’ll get the elf to join Wicked Grace if it’s the last thing I do,” Varric says, choosing to ignore my struggle. “I can’t possibly pass up this opportunity for friendfiction…”

“Ooh, I like that,” Isabela purrs. “Human/elf? I _really_ like that.”

“Me too!” Merrill chirps.

I sigh and, internally, admit defeat.

They’ll never know.

I’ll never give them the satisfaction of knowing.

I grab the previously abandoned bag of sour cream and onion chips and start cramming more into my mouth.

“I can’t believe we’re letting some random guy into our guild,” Anders says. “Because he’s supposedly _hot_.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Varric runs around Merrill, in circles. He hops sometimes. Merrill giggles.

She has a thing for seeing dwarves hop.

“I have a good feeling about this!” Isabela sings. “We have a new goal! Forget quests, dungeons, and the plot! Wicked Grace has a new goal, and that goal is to get Garrett Hawke laid!”

My breath hitches.

I start choking on chips.

My dog, Miles, trots into the room and stares up at me, unamused.

 _Laid_ …

We don’t even know who Fenris is.

There are too many variables to consider, here.

Too many variables going through my brain, as I choke on my handful of sour cream and onion chips.

Once I stop dying, I start spluttering protests. 

Isabela and Varric are roaring with laughter.

“Dare I ask what you people are up to _now?” Aveline [_ **captvallen** _] is online_.

“Oh, kitten, I’m just fucking with you,” Isabela snorts. “Aveline, you’ll want to hear _all_ about this.”

As Varric begins telling Aveline about how “lovestruck” I am for the “Adonis-like elven warrior,” I groan and feel a little bit sorry for Fenris.

If only he knew.


	2. Chapter 2

“Please don’t tell me that you’re still playing that game.”

I’m in front of my computer, wrapped up in a godly cocoon of blankets, working on a daily quest (“Kill 20 Hurlocks.” Positively _thrilling_ ), when I hear a familiar voice, calling out from downstairs.

I’d know that judgmental tone anywhere…

It’s second only to my mother’s.

“Shit! I have to go,” I whisper into my headset.

I log off, mentally apologizing to Isabela, who I’ve left tank-less yet again (and who I can hear starting to complain as my screen fades to black).

I sweep my arm across my desk, sending at least six bags of chips into a trash bin set up right next to it.

“I’m not!” I call out.

“You’re an awful liar, big brother.” Bethany, my little sister, is standing in the doorway. Miles sits obediently at her side, somehow looking just as critical as she is.

Meanwhile, I’m frozen in place.

Paused, with one arm hovering over my desk.

“How…” Change the subject, Garrett! Quickly! “How did you get in here?!”

No! You’re a failure, Garrett. That was lackluster subject-changing.

“Mom sent me. She has a spare key, you know.” Bethany brandishes said key. “I can’t believe it! How long have you been locked up in here? You’re going to die if you keep this up.”

My phone vibrates. I grumble something – something about being fully in control of my life, which Bethany laughs at (so hurtful) – and check it.

 

 **Isabela** (4:16pm):  
dead now! thnx asshole!  >:(

 

“Great. Isabela’s dead now.” She’s probably going to kill me for that, later.

“She’s what?!”

“Oh. Sorry. In the game. Game talk.” I raise an eyebrow at Bethany. “I’d have more of a reaction if she really died, you know.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put anything past you, at this point.” Bethany sighs. She pats Miles on the head. Miles grunts appreciatively. “You look like a hermit,” she says.

“What? Is it the –“ I barely stop myself before I say ‘cocoon of’ – “blankets?”

“Maybe.”

“I think it makes me look sagely.” And godly. I stand up, and begin walking towards her. “Draped in my majestic red robes, which smell like fresh linen and sour cream and onion…”

Bethany rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth tug – I can tell she’s fighting off a smile. “Sure, Garrett. Sure. Whatever you say. Anyway. Mom needs help down at the shop. She texted me.”

“What?! It’s a Saturday!”

“Hey, I’m just passing a message! And making sure that you’re not dead. In real life,” she adds. “Get a move on! Or we’ll both get yelled at.”

As I shed my cocoon, I glance back at my computer. Forlornly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be reunited with your one true love, soon.”

I scowl, and she laughs.

 

~

 

“I just can’t do it.”

Mother looks frustrated. Very frustrated.

Zevran stands next to her, in front of _Hawke’s Carpentry_.

It’s our family business.

(We mostly do repairs… Some design work.)

Ever since Dad passed away, we haven’t really done much heavy construction… but I think Carver’s interested in taking that up again.

Zevran’s back is to me, so I can see the magnificent tribal tattoo on his lower back.

He has a thing for crop tops. He says they’re the new “in” thing this summer.

I don’t really know about that. But sometimes I catch Carver sneaking peeks at him.

That’s really all I have to say about that.

“What’s the problem now?” I ask.

“Oh! I’m glad that you’re finally outside, dear.” Mother means well, but her words?

They hurt.

“Yes. I am outside. On a perfectly decent Saturday for not being outside,” I point out. Zevran laughs.

“Now, now, Gare. We have a, uh, situation.”

“He did it again,” Mother says, glumly.

“What?”

“I may have… been trying to… ah, how do I put this?” Zevran folds his arms. “I was trying to improve the locking system for the store.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yes.” Zevran bites his lower lip, and then turns back to the door. “Oh, shit,” he echoes.

He crouches in front of our store door’s lock, examining it. He has his small toolbox of… lock picking things.

Here’s the thing about Zevran.

A few years ago, he was in a bad spot. He wasn’t from around here, and he needed some money. He was a trained locksmith, and was looking for a job, and… He’s really, really attractive (bronze skin, golden hair, incredible body, nicely shaped nose; I think my mother wanted to set me up with him, to be honest). So my mother hired him.

And... He tries.

He tries and has varying degrees of success.

He’s getting better! Slowly… but surely.

“Do we need to tear the door down again?!” Bethany sounds very excited.

My phone vibrates.

 

 **Varric** (4:34pm):  
Rivaini might try to kill you. If she does, let her. I have $10 on the line.  
:)

 

That’s so typical. I text him back:

 

 **Garrett** (4:34pm):  
Great! nice having the support!  
Tell her its bethany’s fault. and that zevran locked us out. Again.

 

“Probably,” Mother sighs. “He replaced the locks, but the new keys are inside the store…”

Zevran tries to pick the lock, one more time. After cramming the tension wrench and pick in there and shaking the lock around (well, okay, there’s probably more to it than _shaking_ , but. If you could see Zevran, you’d agree with me: he’s shaking), he grunts.

“Did you get it?” Bethany asks, though she knows the answer.

“I think not,” Zevran replies, meekly.

“I guess the door will have to go down.” Mother groans. “That’s the second time this year…”

“It happens,” I say. I pat Zevran on the shoulder, reassuringly. He smiles weakly.

“Two times is an improvement, honestly,” Bethany says. She pats his other shoulder.

“They are just very good locks,” Zevran says, seriously.

“We know,” Bethany and I say.

My phone vibrates.

 

 **Isabela** (4:38pm):  
tell ur sister i say hi!!!!!

 

I ignore her.

“I called Carver, but he isn’t here yet. Why are my boys such slackers?” Again with the innocently hurtful comments…

“I can do it,” I say. “I don’t need Carver.”

“Are you sure?” Mother looks at me critically. I can see where Bethany gets it from. I really can.

“I’m sure! It’s just a door! I do this for a living!” I may be an intense MMO fan, but my dad taught me well. I can fix tables and bookshelves and all sorts of stuff… like it’s nothing.

Fixing things. Breaking things. Same difference.

“Okay, well, I’m just going to go at it, then.”

“That seems like a terrible idea,” Bethany states.

“Honey, please, let’s just wait for Carver. He’ll have tools.” Mother is concerned.

“Oh, right, so, because I’m the gay son, I can’t have tools? Or lower-body strength? Thanks, Mom!”

She just kind of stares at me.

Zevran moves out of the way.

I stand back from the door.

The door frame seems to be the weakest part, so…

I focus on the spot just below the doorknob.

I take a deep breath.

I am a Hawke.

I am a carpenter’s son.

I am a Warrior.

I… really want to go home, so that I can make sure that my guildmates haven’t begun the Hunt for Fenris without me.

Mostly for his sake.

I give that door the most intense kick I’ve ever given _anything_ in my entire life.

The impact sends a shockwave-like force throughout my body. I make a hissing noise, as if I’m a cat that just got its tail stepped on.

I’m not sure how it happens, but my leg then slips off the door and I land flat on my ass.

I just kind of sit there for a while.

Zevran snorts loudly. Then he starts laughing. Bethany does, too. Mom’s looking away. Politely. But her shoulders are shaking.

I can’t fight it. I start laughing, too.

We’re all just in front of _Hawke’s Carpentry_. Laughing. At my ineptitude.

My phone vibrates…

 

 **Isabela** (4:50pm):  
what is she wearing? lol

 

I continue to ignore her. Masterfully.

Zevran helps me up. Mother commends me for my valiant effort.

Right at that moment, Carver pulls in.

He’s driving the same old station wagon, which he’s had since he learnt how to drive… years ago. It belonged to dad. Anyway, as he parks, he kind of just raises his eyebrows at us.

“What are you doing?” He’s wearing a tank for some basketball team and smells like sweat and feet. Like I said: frat boy.

Zevran explains the situation to him.

Carver remains unaffected. “Okay, so kick it down.”

“I tried that. Didn’t work. I think we need a hammer,” I say. “Or maybe something like a battering ram?” Once, Merrill and I found one of those. In the MMO, I mean. We knocked a whole fort down. Anders got mad at us. “Maybe we could use a stool? I could walk back to my house and get a st –“

Carver kicks the door so solidly and so _suddenly_ that I let out a squeak.

It cracks.

“We’re in!” Zevran sings. “Well done, Carvo!”

Carver grumbles something under his breath. Mother hugs him, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. He grumbles more.

We spend the next few hours trying to fix the door.

Zevran is very apologetic, in his charming way.

Zevran’s charm is essentially a mix of Isabela-and-Varric charm.

Coincidentally, he’s friends with both of them.

Anyway, we sort out the key situation, too.

Mother and the twins head out around 7pm. I want to head out around then, too, but Zevran protests loudly. And shamelessly. Because I “ _never hang out with him any more_.”

We head to _Duncan’s_ , an incredibly cosy coffee shop within walking distance from the carpentry (and, by extension, my house).

Coffee? At 7pm? Why not.

There’s a performance tonight. It’s really casual. A redheaded woman croons into a microphone, while playing a… lute? Is that a lute?

“Is that a lute?” I point at it. Zevran rolls his eyes at me. “Is she a bard?!” I love bards!

“We’re not in your little game right now. Focus.” Zevran grabs the back of my shirt’s collar and drags me along. People stare.

“So, how’s Isabela doing today?” Zevran asks as we take a seat.

Isabela and Zevran were friends (with benefits) in college. They’re pretty close.

“I think she’s trying to hit on my sister,” I say. “From a distance. Without even knowing her, really.”

“That’s my girl,” Zevran says, affectionately. “And is she still playing that little game?”

“It’s not a ‘little game’! It’s massive!” MMORPG: massive multiplayer online role-playing game. It has “massive” in the genre title. “Also, it has a name!”

“Oh… right. Dragon… something. Dragon time?”

“Ugh, no, no, it’s – Ugh! Never mind! It doesn’t matter,” I analyze one of the drink menus, even though I know I’m just going to get a hot chocolate.

I don’t mix well with caffeine…I get jittery. I’m jittery by nature.

Add coffee to that? No way.

“Aw, don’t get all bitter with me, Gare!” He laughs. “Anyway, I was talking to her last night… she said you are, ah, interested in someone?”

“Wha – No! It’s not like that at all!” I explain the situation to him: Fenris. The guild. The “plan.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I understood a word you just said,” is his response to all of that. “But! I trust Isabela. So I am going to leave this in her capable hands.”

“You’re a great help,” I say.

He winks at me, roguishly. “I hope this Fenris character is your type – and not a serial killer. Or a member of the seedy underbelly of who knows where.”

“You know that not _everyone_ online is a serial killer or part of the mafia, right?”

“You’d be surprised,” Zevran says.

I don’t want to know…

“Regardless, Isabela and Varric are a deadly duo. If they want you with this Fenris,” he picks up a sugar packet and brandishes it at me, “you’ll get with this Fenris.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” I reply, glumly. And unconvinced.

Like I said: there are too many variables.

“Here’s to hoping he’s sexy in real life,” Zevran says. He turns his head and smiles, and then raises his hand in a little half-wave.

Cousland’s working. No wonder Zevran wanted to come to _Duncan’s_.

Cousland’s kind of intimidating. He’s not as tall as me, but…

He’s dating Zevran. Or… consistently sleeping with him. While living with him.

Apparently, it’s complicated.

Anyway, his black hair is kind of long and is always all over the place. He’s perpetually glaring. And he has a lot of weird piercings. He also doesn’t say much.

Zevran’s really into that stuff, I guess.

I like Cousland, though. He’s a dog person. He gave me Miles, actually. His dog, Marty, is Miles’ brother. So I guess we’re kind of related… Somehow.

Cousland comes up to us. A small notepad is in one of his hands and a pen is in the other. “What’ll it be this time?”

“Mmm, would it be too predictable if I said that I want _you_?” Zevran chews on the end of the sugar packet he was patronizing me with a few minutes ago.

“It’s predictable, but I’m okay with that,” Cousland replies. The two make _eyes_ at each other.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate,” I say.

We hang out at _Duncan’s_ for a while (Zevran gets some exotic coffee blend with a fancy name, and then vanishes for a suspicious amount of time). I don’t care what Zevran says: that redheaded lady? _Totally_ a bard.

I almost forget that my future is at the mercy of Wicked Grace. But then my phone vibrates.

 

 **Merrill** (8:37pm):  
Garrett,  
We found Fenris! :^)

 

“Why are you looking like you’re about to kill someone?” Zevran asks. He’s picking at a small pastry. “Not that it’s a bad look for you, but…”

“THEY FOUND FENRIS,” I pretty much yell. Some people turn around and stare.

“Who? Oh,” Zevran pops a piece of the pastry in his mouth. “Right. Sexy potential serial killer love interest.”

“I have to go right now!” I say. I text Merrill back.

 

 **Garrett** (8:37pm):  
DON’T YOU DARE DO ANYTHING WEIRD. STOP ISABELA AND VARRIC. KEEP ANDERS AWAY.

 

She replies almost immediately:

 

 **Merrill** (8:37pm):  
Garrett,  
Aveline is onlien so you are safe :^)  
*Online, sorry  
I type far too quickly sometimes :^(

 

Thank god for Aveline. Thank god. I love Aveline.

I am going to hug Aveline the moment I meet her in real life. I might send her an E-Card later.

“Aveline’s online. I’m safe, for now. I have to go.” I pull my wallet out of my pants pocket and pull money out for my share of the bill.

“Tsk tsk,” Zevran pushes the wallet back. “I’ve got this. It’s the least I could do, since I summoned you out of your den on a Saturday evening.”

“Fine,” I say, as I stuff my wallet back in my pocket and stand up.

“I should get Leandra some flowers.”

“You do that. Not white lilies, though. She hates those.”

Something about them being too ‘funeral-like’ and ‘foreboding.’ I don’t know.

“Noted,” Zevran smirks. “And… Bethany can get some lingerie. I’ll let Isabela pick that out.”

I narrow my eyes.

“I’m joking!” He puts his hands up, defensively. “I’m joking. I swear. Even I would not stoop so low.”

“Good luck sorting out your gift plans,” I say as I push my chair in and start walking away.

“Good luck dealing with your… Dragon Time… shit,” he calls out, from behind me.

“It’s not called – fine. Yes. Okay. Thank you,” I say.

I speed-walk out of the coffee shop and into the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again: mary aka snoot is the best beta known to mankind, shower her with praise and flowers.


	3. Chapter 3

“Aw, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud!” Isabela says.

“I am _not_ a stick-in-the-mud! _You’re_ too invasive,” Aveline retorts.

“He’ll thank me for it later!”

“I most certainly will _not_ ,” I say. I’m alarmingly skilled at logging on at just the right moment. 

Of course, I spawn right in the middle of a Darkspawn horde (since I logged out in the middle of one; thanks, Karma) and immediately begin thrashing through them with my greatsword, but… it’s nothing.

I’m a Warrior. A tank.

I may not be able to kick down a door in real life, but here?

Here, I could probably kick a door down. If the game gave me the option to.

“Great! You’re here. Now I don’t have to deal with holding these heathens back.” Aveline’s annoyed. Very annoyed. I have to remember to send her that E-Card later.

“Where are you?!” I ask as I decapitate the last Hurlock.

“Kitten, why are you _breathing_ like that?” Isabela asks.

Merrill giggles.

“I ran back home from _Duncan’s_!” I hate running. I really do. “Merrill texted me!”

“You texted him?! Daisy!” Isabela has been betrayed.

“I’m sorry! I was just excited! I wanted to tell him that we found the handsome elf!”

“Hey, Hawke.” Oh, Varric’s online, too. “Phase One of _Operation: Hard in Hightown_ is about to get started. Glad you could join us.”

“Hard? Hightown?!” I reach out for a bag of chips, then remember that I threw all away when Bethany invaded my house. Thanks, Bethany. “Just what, exactly, is _hard_ in Hightown?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Hawkey? _You’re_ hard.” Isabela laughs.

I reflexively look down at my crotch. Then feel ridiculous.

Before I can correct her, Varric chimes in.

“Or, rather, you were the first time you saw Fenris, back in Hightown. Think of it as a testament to your first hard-on for him.”

“There was no _hardening_!” I blubber. These people are going to be my actual death. “Where’s Anders?!” Anders would vouch for me. Maybe.

“He’s not online at the moment. Say, can someone please explain the operation name to me?” Merrill asks. “What’s ‘hard’, exactly?”

“Just think about it, Merrill,” Aveline says. She sounds worn-out.

Not that I blame her.

“Where are you guys?!” I ask. Again.

“We’re in Sundermount,” Aveline says, quickly.

“ _Judas_!” Isabella hollers.

“Oh, shut up,” Aveline snaps. “Do you honestly want to see Hawke’s reaction if we _do_ manage to recruit this man behind his back?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you might have a point, there.” Isabela sighs.

“The operation would fail almost immediately,” Varric points out.

“Thanks! Thank you all!” I fume as I shuffle through my inventory and use a _perfectly_ good teleportation stone.

“Baby steps, Hawke,” Varric explains.

“Oh! I get it. _Hard_! In Hightown! That’s _so_ dirty! Your… _That_! That was hard! I get it now!” Merrill’s cracked the operation title’s code. “I’m so impressed, what a clever name!”

Isabela and Varric start laughing. Uncontrollably.

I think Aveline’s laughing, too, but she’s mastered the art of silent-laughing.

So there’s that.

“Nothing was hard, actually,” I clarify. I want to laugh, too, but I can’t give in.

I must be strong.

“Minor details,” Varric says.

I’m finally in Sundermount. The natural textures load up around me; even while the screen’s still loading, I’m scanning the map for them.

I finally catch sight of Aveline’s shield – sturdy and plated, styled to look like a lion’s head – in the distance, along with the text “[ **captvallen** ]” hovering above her.

I sprint over there.

Isabela is sitting on the ground next to her. She’s at eye level with Varric, who’s standing up. Merrill sits, her legs crossed out in front of her, on the other side of Aveline.

They’re at the foot of the mountain. It’s huge. The biggest one in the game.

“He went to the very top.” Merrill waves at my character. She sends me a party invitation.

“And you’re all just waiting for him to come back down?” That’s not creepy. At all. Regardless, I accept the invitation.

“Nah. I wanted to go see him and talk to him, but Ms. Spoilsport Mannish Stick-in-the-Mud decided to ruin everything.” I just _know_ that, behind her monitor, Isabela's rolling her eyes at me.

“Shut up, wench,” Aveline retorts.

“Aveline. You’re my goddess,” I say, seriously.

“I know.” Aveline faces me. “That being said… I want another warrior in this guild, Hawke.”

“Why?! Am I not good enough?”

“No.”

“What?!”  
  
“Honestly, you can’t tank for shit,” Aveline says.

“We’ve been over this! I totally _can_ tank for sh –“

“Drop it, Kitten,” Isabela drawls. She lies flat on her back, still next to Varric.

“It’s too rough holding aggro on my own! We’ll be at endgame soon, and I need backup.”

I can’t believe it.

Rejected by my own goddess.

I sniff.

“Are you _crying_ , Garrett?” Merrill asks, concerned.

“No! I’m not crying! I just...” I take a deep breath. “First, there’s the _door_ , then, there’s _this_ –“

“What door?” Isabela asks, but Aveline starts talking over her.

“Don’t misunderstand me. You have your strengths. I just… need someone else to sponge damage.” Aveline walks close to me, and grabs onto my shoulders. “I need another sponge, Hawke.”

“Fine. Fine! I get it.” Feeling sufficiently emasculated, I accept the fact that I am the lone person against _Operation: Hard in Hightown_.

I mean, Anders might be too. But Anders is opposed to a lot of things.

I’d love to have some Anders opposition right now. Of _course_ he’d be offline when I _really_ need it.

“Then here’s the plan,” Varric says. “We’re all going to head up the mountain. Then we’ll lay it on thick for the guy, and he won’t be able to resist our charm.”

“You mean _your_ charm,” I grumble.

“I can be charming!” Isabela stands up. “How else would I have as many sovereigns as I do?”

“Your type of charm isn’t going to be of any use here, hag,” Aveline says.

“True,” Isabela replies. “Hey, maybe you should sit this one out, big girl. Your hog face might scare him away.”

“Oh, I think he can take it.”

I have no idea how they insult each other so much, and yet, are still so close.

Are they even close?

I have no idea.

They _seem_ close. I think.

“Alright, Rivaini. Red. That’s enough. Phase One, remember?” Oh, Varric. What would we do without you? “We don’t want to upset Hawke’s delicate sensibilities.”

“Too late,” I say. Varric laughs.

Merrill stands up and hops in place. “I’m so excited! Garrett, you’ve got to be really charming, alright?”

“I’m always charming,” I lie.

“You’re _such_ a bad liar.” Isabela sees right through it. “It’s bloody incredible how bad you are at lying.”

“I wasn’t lying, I was joking!” I lie again.

“Whatever.” She probably saw right through it. Again.

“To the top we go!”  Merrill sings.

“We don’t have a healer right now. Don’t get reckless.” Aveline unsheathes her sword and grabs the shield from off her back.

“Right. Easy on the blood magic, Daisy,” Varric winks at Merrill as he grabs his crossbow. “Bianca’s ready for some action.”

Bianca. That’s his crossbow.

He’s had Bianca since we started the game… He lucked out in the Auction Market. He just keeps adding materials to it.

Wait, I mean… He just keeps adding materials to _her._

If you call Bianca an “it,” Varric… gets offended.

Anyway, he’s a crafting genius.

“I can manage, thank you,” Merrill says, indignant. She gives her staff a twirl.

“Onward, then!” Isabela grabs her daggers – one in each hand – and, with a flourish, begins charging up Sundermount.

“Remember, Hawke: sponge,” Aveline says as she starts dashing off, too.

“Right! Sure!” I reply, grabbing my obscenely large, two-handed sword (no one could ever carry this thing in real life) and following them, with Varric and Merrill close behind me.

 

 

~

 

 

“There’s. So. Many. Fucking. Skeletons.” Isabela groans so loudly into her mic that it picks up static.

“I’m so worried!” Merrill wails as she stabs herself in the stomach (blood magic is fucked up, let me tell you).  “How could Fenris go up here, all alone?”

“No idea,” Varric mutters as he sends bolts raining down on another wave of reanimated skeletons.

Since I am, in fact, a shitty tank, I’m mostly focusing on just standing around and yelling at the skeletons so that they hit _me_ , instead of Isabela, Varric or Merrill. When the skeletons close in on me, I sweep my blade across the horde and reduce it to… bones. Of course, more are quick to appear.

Aveline has a similar approach. “There’s plenty of them, but they’re weak,” she says as she slams her shield into a skeleton’s… skull. “He could do it, but it’d take more time, I’d imagine.”

Miles scampers into my room and lies close to my feet. I rub his back with my foot. He growls appreciatively.

I have my dog.

I am unstoppable.

“I am unstoppable!” I roar as I make my character spin wildly with his sword sticking out in the air in front of him. “Behold my tornado of death!”

Miles sits up. His ears twitch.

Another wave of skeletons has fallen.

“That would’ve been impressive, if you weren’t such a nerd about it.” Isabela crouches and begins grabbing all the loot she can.

“I thought it was quite intimidating!” Merrill understands me.

Anyway, despite it all, we make pretty good progress. 

I, only occasionally, forget to sponge. But Aveline is quick to remind me, now that my lackluster tanking abilities are out in the open.

Just when you think you can trust someone…

We’re almost at the top of Sundermount when I hear combat; combat which _isn’t_ ours.

I grab my mouse and adjust the camera.

I see a flash of white and the glowing trail of a sword.

My stomach flips.

“It’s him!” Isabella announces.

Varric whistles. “Damn. Thought he’d be dead for sure.”

I click Fenris. He’s… level 35 now?! How?!

“Holy shit. He levels like a _beast_ ,” I say.

“He’s very impressive!” Merrill sighs. “It took me a month to get to level 30.” She’s level 32 now. The level cap's at 50.

 _Click_.

“Did you just take a screenshot of him, Daisy?” Varric asks.

“Oops, sorry, that was me,” Isabela says. “Carry on.”

“He can tank. He can _tank_.” Aveline is enraptured. “God, he can tank. Do you see how he’s pulling them all in? Yet he’s doing so much damage. It’s as if he’s a DPS class. Could you imagine doing a dungeon run with him?!”

“I’m sure Garrett can imagine doing _many_ things with him.” Isabela giggles.

“Okay, but he’s being mauled by at least twenty skeletons at once,” I point out.

 “Share those ‘things’ with me later, Rivaini,” Varric says. This friendfiction of his… “Anyway, it’s time for Hawke to be a big damn hero!”

“Get in there, Tiger!” Woah, Isabela dropped the ‘Kitten.’

I’ve been promoted to larger-cat status.

I have to admit, that makes me feel kind of warm. And fuzzy.

Warm. Fuzzy. Tiger-like.

“We’ll follow you, Garrett,” Merrill nudges me forward. “But he has to see _you_ first. So go in there!”

I can picture them all, beaming up at me…

I can also picture me, going in there “to help,” and dying.

I…

Miles licks my ankle. My support system is in full effect.

Oh, what the hell. We need new members, anyway.

I buff myself (Isabela squeals delightedly. I never buff myself. Ever) and dash in there.

Fenris is… amazing. He’s strong. He’s not unscathed, but his health is above the 50% mark. Considering that he’s being mauled, that’s impressive.

He’s so small, and that sword is probably just as tall as him.

“Hawke, stop _staring_. Do something!”

Shit. Okay. I can do this.

Miles is with me!

I move my cursor over the chat window and click it. As I start typing (on General chat, mind you – I can’t go to Whisper levels, I just can’t), I realize that my hands (huge, rough hands – carpenter’s hands) are ridiculously sweaty.

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Hey! need a hand?

 

A sweaty hand.

Fenris decapitates a skeleton.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : sure.

 

“You’re in!” Merrill chirps.

“Remember, Hawke: sponge,” Aveline advises.

“I – I know!” I start pressing my attack keys with reckless abandon (in a very un-sponge-like way, but Fenris can tank for both of us, I’m pretty sure).

 _Click_.

“Rivaini?”

“You know it.”

Varric chuckles.

They’re off-screen for me, so I doubt that Fenris can see them, but I start feeling self-conscious.

“Hey, are you helping, or what?”

“You’ve got this,” Isabela croons.

“That – that wasn’t the deal!”

“But you’re doing so well! They’re almost all gone,” Merrill says.

Fenris does the same attack I did, earlier. My tornado of death. But his glows, light blue. It’s beautiful. He makes it look… beautiful.

My heart does this fluttery thing. And I realize that I’m getting emotional over a virtual character on an overrated MMO.

I take a few deep breaths, and remind myself of all the… variables. Too many variables.

Before long, the mob of skeletons lays around our feet in a bony heap.

My fingers start moving before I can even process what just happened.

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : You’re amazing!

 

“Wow, way to play it cool, Kitten.”

Ah, I’m back at kitten status.

Honestly, I deserve it.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha. thanks.

 

I feel like I’m about to ascend to a higher plane of being.

Miles licks at my ankle again. Questioning. Or, you know, wanting to be scratched again.

“Okay, Hawke. Ask him. Right here. Right now,” Varric commands.

I scratch Miles with my foot. He lies back down.

“How? How am I supposed to ask him to join?!”

“Just ask him. Say you’re part of a guild and that you want him to join it, because we need another Warrior,” Aveline says.

“Or you can tell him he’s hot and that you want to get to know him better.” Isabela takes another screenshot.

“Stop with the screenshots!” I bellow. “Ugh. I… dammit!”

I type quickly, before he decides to run off, like back in Hightown…

Though he’s still just standing there, all patient.

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Hey, i’m part of a guild, and we’re looking for new members! You’d be perfect for us!!!

 

I need to stop using so many exclamation marks.

For a split second, I regret having the dorkiest username known to mankind…

But then I remember that dragons are cool.

And I’m cool.

But, anyway.

Chat is silent. We’re all on the edges of our respective seats.

Miles yawns.

“Not the time, Miles,” I snap.

He looks up at me. Unamused.

“Who’s Miles?” Merrill asks.

“His dog,” Aveline answers. “Oh, Hawke, how is he?”

“Fine. Judgmental,” I reply. “Lately he’s been drinking more water than usual, though.”

“Can we _please_ save the dog talk for later?!” Isabela snaps.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : wicked grace?

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Yeah!!! how’d you know?!

 

“How does he know our guild name?!” Are we… _known_? Are we one of _those_ guilds?

“He probably looked it up,” Varric mutters.

 

Fenris _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s in your stats window.

 

Oh.

“Oh.”

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Oh!!

 

Again with the exclamation marks.

“Someone, please, stop me,” I groan.

“Maybe we should’ve let Varric do this,” Isabela mutters.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : sure. i’m tired of all the random adds lately.

 

 **SURE**.

“SURE!” I announce.

Chat is overcome by whooping and joyful hollering.

“I knew you could do it, Kitten!”

“Isabela, you _just_ said you thought that Varric should’ve – you know what, I don’t even care.” I can’t believe it. I did it.

I recruited someone into Wicked Grace. The core group. The posse. The…

“Send the invite. Now, Hawke,” Varric is still very much in the zone, “before he changes his mind.”

“Everyone has so much confidence in me, lately,” I say.

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Awesome! i’m really glad to hear that! :) :)

 

“Too much, Hawke.” Isabela snorts.

“I don’t even care right now!” I really don’t. I… can’t believe he actually agreed to join.

I really… I’m…

As I left-click him and select the “ _Invite to Guild_ : [ **Wicked Grace** ]”, he replies.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : :)

 

OH MY GOD.

My breath hitches.

Yes, I’m that pathetic.

Isabela is _delighted_.

“I told you. I told you,” she keeps saying.

“Oh, Garrett,” Merrill breathes. “You’ve done it! He _smiled_. That emoticon is a _smile_.”

White text appears across the screen:

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _] has been added to [_ **Wicked Grace** _]_.

It’s when I see that text that I realize… The others. They’re going to talk to him. And… _Operation: Hard in Hightown_ …

Oh, no. Run, Fenris! Run!

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : sorry, i have to go now. to work. but thank you.

 

Wow, it’s like he heard my thoughts. He can sense the impending danger of Wicked Grace.

Isabela, prodding him for “real life” details, and encouraging him to make out with me…

Varric, hounding him for material for friendfiction…

Merrill, enthusiastically going on and on about human/elf relationships…

Aveline… she’s not much of a threat. Though her enthusiasm for tanking might be a little… strange.

“Damn!” Isabela grumbles. “I wanted to ask him for a photo.”

Like I said: Real life details. Prodding.

“Don’t push it,” Aveline hisses.

“You’re no fun. No fun at all.”

 

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Sure! no problem! i’m glad you joined! we can talk later! :D

 

“Christ, Kitten, are you even listening? Tone it _down_.” Isabela starts laughing.

“I can’t! I don’t know how!” I’m out of control.

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : of course. goodbye.

 _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Bye!!!

 

He logs out.

I exhale. Relief.

Miles waddles away from under the table. He probably sensed that his aid is no longer needed.

“That was absolutely lovely,” Merrill states. She runs up to me, now that the zone is Fenris-free, and starts hopping in one place. “You were so charming, Garrett!”

“I wouldn’t call that display ‘charming,’ but it _was_ fucking _adorable_.” Isabela follows her. “Really. I knew this would be a good call.”

“Against all odds, Phase One of _Operation: Hard in Hightown_ was a resounding success.” Varric chuckles. “Now, who wants to debrief Blondie when he logs in?”

I groan. “Not me. I’m done. I need to take a long –“

“Cold shower?”

“No. No, Isabela. A long walk.”

She laughs.

“Sure, Hawke. You earned it, with your excellent use of exclamation marks.” Varric…

“Be safe,” Aveline says, seriously. “Always be alert. Many crimes occur when the victim least –“

“I got it! Got it, Aveline.” She really is a goddess, though. She works at a police station. She can’t tone down her protectiveness. “Thanks. Night, everyone.”

They all tell me good night.

As I log out, I hear Merrill ask Isabela what she meant by a “cold shower.”

I laugh and shake my head while I take my headset off.

Fenris… I can’t believe it.

“Can you believe it, Miles?” I ask him. He waddles back over to me and wags his stubby little tail. He probably can’t believe it, either.

I turn back to my laptop and go on the site I always use for E-cards.

Aveline likes dogs.

I’m going to find her an E-card with a lot of dogs on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot beta'd this chapter on a ship with dodgy wifi access, filled with dancing old people. her dedication is unquestionable and resolute. (thanks, mary!)


	4. Chapter 4

Mondays are always rough.

But they’re especially rough when you spent the entire weekend playing copious amounts of an increasingly overrated MMO.

It’s like, you were once in the dark… and now, you’re in the light. Literally.

As I step out of my house and into the sunlight, I hiss, like a vampire, albeit the unsexiest vampire imaginable.

My landlady (and neighbor), Meredith, glares at me. I pretend not to notice and hurry past her, mumbling out a greeting (she doesn’t reply – thanks, Meredith).

 _Mondays_.

Fenris didn’t come online yesterday. I would know. I was posted, religiously, from the early hours of the morning until… the early hours of _this_ morning.

I dash across the street, giving a little wave to a car as thanks for stopping and not deciding to flatten me. Everyone has work today, so if Fenris _does_ come online, he’d probably be… Wicked Grace-less.

Thank goodness.

Anyway…

I speed-walk up to the door of _Hawke’s Carpentry_ and yank it open. Our receptionist, Morrigan, is sitting in front of a work desk, filing her nails.

“Hey.” I walk up to her. “What’s up?”

“I’ve had this man on hold for the past hour,” she replies, vaguely gesturing to the phone on the desk.

“What?! Who?!”

“Orsino. You know, that one old guy, with the widow’s peak and the _eternally wounded_ look on his face,” she sneers.

“He went through a bad divorce, apparently,” I say. “He told me all about it.” Not who his ex-wife is, though. Every time that came up, he just looked at me like a sad puppy.

A sad, old puppy with a receding hairline.

“I don’t care. _He_ was rude to _me_ ,” Morrigan says. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a bottle of black nail polish. “I must remind him who’s _truly_ in power, here – ‘tis only natural.”

“Right. Well. We need his money. So, go deal with that, thanks,” I say. I walk past her, trying to give her a stern look.

She just shrugs.

Bethany’s perched on a work stool. She has goggles on and is diligently chiseling away at a block of wood.

Bethany’s an art student right now. Wood carving’s her main focus (I guess she was influenced by Dad and I). When she’s home for summer, she spends a lot of time in the shop. She’s really good. She has a lot of talent.

I’m pretty decent, too… But she has more of an eye for detail, I think.

“Garrett! Big brother!” She yells once she sees me. “I didn’t know you had a crush!”

Not her.

Not my _little_ _sister_.

She grins at me. Wickedly.

“That’s because I don’t,” I say, slowly. I dump my knapsack in a corner and reach into my pocket. I pull my phone out and find Isabela’s name in my contact list.

 

 **Garrett** (10:18am):  
You’re 10000% dead to me.

 

“There’s no use hiding it from me!” Bethany hops over. Her goggles are still on; she looks buggish. “Zevran told me _all_ about it!”

Oh. Oops. Too late. Already texted Isabela. Whatever. This is still her fault.

Zevran breezes out of the backroom, his toolbox in tow.

He’s wearing our work shirt – the same one I have on. It’s this brownish dark red, with a pattern similar to our family’s crest and the words _Hawke’s Carpentry_ on the back.

Zevran’s is way too big for him, but, of course, he somehow makes it work. Incredibly so. It’s like we’re wearing different outfits altogether.

“Zevran! What lies are you telling my baby sister?!” I stuff my phone back into my pocket.

“Sorry, Gare!” He gives me a little salute with his free hand. “No time to talk! I’m on the clock, you know!”

“Good luck!” Bethany says. “You can do it!”

“I can!” Zevran smirks. “Cousland hired me, actually.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Really, Zevran? Really?”

“Oh, not like that, you smartass.” He shoves me playfully. “I _wish_ it was like that. But, alas.” He sighs. “ _Duncan’s_ is having a _situation_ with one of their store-rooms. I think… someone is locked in? Something hilarious like that.”

“Oh my god! Go help! Right now!” Bethany pushes him out of the door.

 

 **Isabela** (10:20am):  
lmfao what did i do ??? w/e im glad i did it  
btw im still mad @ you for 1) abandoning me on sat & 2) not telling me what bethy was wearing

 

 **Garrett** (10:20am):  
the Tale of Fenris is spreading far & wide and its ALL LIES. All of it.  
shes wearing a red shirt and goggles rn. STOP being creepy.

 

 **Isabela** (10:21am):  
:) never! tell her i say hey ;) winky wink

 

“Isabela says ‘hey,’” I grumble. I omit the “winky wink.”

“Oh! Really? How is she doing? Did she kill you yet?” Bethany takes off her goggles and wipes them on her shirt.

“No, but it’s coming.”

“Cool!” She snaps her goggles back into place. “So, tell me all about this guy. Your nerdy MMO crush who’s probably a serial killer.”

“He’s–“

“Hey, a client wants us. Like, now.” Carver swoops in and saves me from explaining the train wreck which is (hypothetically) my love life.

“Aw, Carvy, did you just get here?” I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

“Stop.” He pulls away.

“Carver, Garrett and I were about to have a very serious discussion!” Bethany folds her arms and pouts. She really reminds me of Mother… she’s, like, her carbon-copy.

“Have it later,” Carver walks past us. “We have to go to Wynne’s.”

“How does one library break so often?!” I ignore the distinctly evil look in Bethany’s eyes and wrap my arms around Carver’s shoulders again.

“I don’t know. The shelves are old,” Carver grumbles. “Your tools are in the truck already. Hurry up.” He pulls away again and glares at me before stomping away.

“Well, Bethy, I’m off!” I grin and give her a little salute.

“You’re not off the hook yet!” She yells. “I have my ways of spying on your life, you know.”

“There’s nothing to spy on!” I say as I close the door leading to reception. I can hear Bethany laughing as I leave.

  

~  
 

I like Wynne. She’s strict, but in a loveable way. She’s good friends with Mother, so… yeah.

She fusses over Carver and me while we work on the shelves, which… are barely holding on, really. So much damaged wood...

Of course, we don’t bother with telling her to get replacements. Not only would Wynne refuse to, but she’d also get… really, really offended.

Dagna’s there, too. She’s a librarian-in-training, and a fellow MMO enthusiast… though she can’t play any. At all. She’s awful at them. It’s incredible.

That being said, she’s _way_ more intense than Anders could ever hope to be, in terms of her lore knowledge. She even reads the books which the developers release every few months.

No one ever reads those books.

No one.

As I move stacks of books as gently as I can off their shelving, she chatters to me about _mage_ things, while Carver looks like he wants to die.

Being a good big brother, I don’t even try to stop Dagna. Instead, I nod along, enthusiastically.

Isabela stops texting me at the exact moment I tell her that I’m not with Bethany, so stuff proceeds pretty smoothly. By the time the library’s (mostly) fixed up, it’s 5pm.

We politely decline afternoon tea with Wynne (well, Carver _forces_ me to politely decline afternoon tea with Wynne, which sucks because her scones are probably the best things this world has to offer) and hop back into the pickup.

It’s an old truck. It belonged to my dad, back when he was in charge of the business. It splutters and keeps breaking down, but we can’t sell it. We just _can’t_.

It’s kind of like a reminder that dad was here, you know? That he was around. It’s important to us.

That doesn’t stop me from banging on the radio when it literally will _not_ work. Carver ignores me, as is his way.

Here’s the thing: I could talk to Bethany for hours. We cry when we watch Pixar movies. Usually together. We also “talk about boys.” She takes great delight in that. She threatened to buy me a life-sized cardboard cutout of Legolas once.

But Carver? I barely know what’s going on with him. I would rather eat a shoe than talk to Carver about… _men_.

He also made fun of me for crying during _Up_.

I still resent that. _They just loved each other so much…_

I vowed to never watch a movie with him again.

Anyway, eventually, he swats my hand away from the radio. “You’re gonna break it,” he warns.

“It’s already broken, clearly,” I reply.

He grunts. My phone vibrates.

 

 **Merrill** (5:17pm):  
Garrett,  
We are having a Crafting Party tonight! :^)  
Do you htink Fenris will come?  
*Think

 

Crafting parties. Varric does all this intense Market stuff, and he finds out what’s in demand… then we all sit around and craft… for hours.

We sell stuff as we go. It usually brings in a lot of money… but it’s also the perfect setting for them to nag Fenris. Low-pressure. Mass production. Profit.

 

 **Garrett** (5:17pm):  
If he logs in, yeah. dont nag him!!!

 

 **Merrill** (5:18pm):  
Garrett,  
I will not! X^D  
I am so happy that we have another elf :^D

 

I laugh. Carver’s eyes dart over to me. “What?”

“It’s my friend,” I say as I text Merrill back. “She’s adorable.”

“I thought you were gay.”

I stop texting and stare at him. “Are you serious right now?”

“I was kidding.”

Like I said: Carver’s a mystery to me.

 

~

 

“Your brother’s so funny, Garrett.” Merrill’s character is sitting with her knees crossed. There’s a mortar in one of her hands and a pestle in the other.

Varric left a note on Wicked Grace’s public message board – “Market needs Magebane. Sorry, Anders. :)”

So we’re making Magebane.

A _lot_ of Magebane.

“Carver’s a riot!” Isabela’s off-screen for me. She’s with Varric and Aveline, in the Deep Roads… they’re harvesting lyrium dust, since we’ll need a lot of it. “I love that kid.”

“I’m not letting you go near him. You’ll eat him.”

“I’m not interested, honestly. He’s not my type.”

“Didn’t know you had a type,” Anders remarks. He’s sitting next to me, also making Magebane. “I thought anyone would do.”

“Oh, please,” Isabela says. “I do, in fact, have a type. Hawke’s sister, for example, is very much my type.”

“Isabela!” I warn.

“She’s perky, mischievous, and she has these big, innocent eyes.” She ignores me. “I saw a photo of her pouting once… She has the cutest little lips. And she seems _so_ soft –“

“Please stop. Stop right now. I’m never letting you talk to Zevran again,” I grumble.

“Now, now, Hawkey. Nothing can stop true love,” Varric chimes in. “It just… finds a way.”

“Don’t go there!” I crunch away at my chips. I keep opening the guild menu and staring at Fenris’ name.

It’s greyed out. He’s not online.

“They’re just teasing you, Hawke,” Aveline says, patiently. It’s good to know she’s on my side, though it’s probably because she _loved_ the E-Card.

(It had, like, 5 different golden retrievers. And they all sang!)

“If you give them that reaction, they’ll never stop.”

“I’m offended!” Isabela wails. “My feelings for Bethy are true. I would love to see her in –“

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _] is online._

 

“—a cute red bikini, for example.”

“That’s how you know it’s real,” Anders says.

“Oh my god! He’s here!” I scream.

“Wait – what? You invited him?!” Apparently, Anders didn’t know.

“Did you not know that, Anders?” Merrill asks. “Oh… I guess we didn’t decide on who would tell you…”

“Oh my god!” I keep saying.

“Hawke, you better message him. Immediately. He doesn’t know the rest of us,” Varric says. “Rivaini, is there any reason you’re dancing on that Genlock corpse?”

Isabela laughs.

“I know, I’m – I’m doing it!” I throw my bag of chips down (yeah, I’m a neglectful crafter – no one can tell when you put it all in the guild chest… Merrill can craft enough for a small army. Her little fingers… they mix toxins at the speed of light).

My hands hover over my keyboard (I’m _Whispering_ him. We’re at that level… this is too much for me) and I wrack my brain for something to say.

Is it creepy, messaging him the second he logs in?

Should I wait? Should I…

“Did you do it yet?” Aveline asks.

“Don’t patronize me!” I snap. “I – What do I say?!”

“Christ, kitten, just get on with it!” Isabela says.

 

[W] _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Hey! you’re finally online!

 

Right, Garrett. Right. He wasn’t online for a day. One day (well, two, counting today, but…). And now you look like you have no life at all.

Good job, Garrett. Outstanding!

 

[W] _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : hey. yeah, sorry about that. work was… busy.

 

Anders says something and Merrill giggles. But it’s all background noise. I’m on the edge of my seat. Miles, my anxiety-sponge, is not in the room.

 

[W] _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : oh, it’s cool, don’t worry! I was just waiting to introduce you to everyone.

[W] _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : theyre kind of rowdy

 

That… is a huge understatement.

 

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha. i can take it. don’t worry about me.

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Believe me, if you knew them, you’d get why im so worried.

[W] _Garrett [_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I can’t leave you alone in their clutches!!!

[W] _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : sure. lol.

 

I really like how he types.

It’s so… blunt? It’s serious, but…

 

[W] _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _]_ : so… how are you?

 

I make a squeak-esque noise.

“He’s definitely talking to him,” Isabela says, wryly.

“I can’t believe he joined.” Anders’ character shakes his head. “Like, really? _Really_?”

“Like I said earlier, Blondie: love just finds a way,” Varric says.

I grumble something about it not being _love_ (the variables) and he shushes me.

 

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I’m good! A little tired from work but its fine. I’m in the elf camp making magebane with some guild ppl.

 

Ha! Now he knows that I don’t sit in front of my laptop all day!

Though I totally would, if I could. …As I’ve proven before.

 

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : for the market? magebane is in high demand.

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i think people are doing that new quest. you have to hunt down a blood mage group for it.

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Another addition to the incredibly large pool of blood mage-related quests

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Youd think the developers would get that we’re a little sick of that stuff, u know?

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : evidently not. so annoying.

 

Are we ‘bantering?’

I like ‘bantering’ with him.

Guild chat lights up.

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : k hawke stop monopolizing the new guy thnxxx

 

“Thanks for that,” I say. She whistles, feigning innocence.

I hop onto guild chat.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : We are having a delightful conversation actually!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : idc

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : its great to meet u, fenris!!! :)

 

I smile.

I mean, I’m still nervous, because my friends are evil.

But…

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s good to meet you, too.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i like your u/n, isabela.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : oooo someone who appreciates quality taste <3 <3

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : we need more ppl like u in this SHITTY GUILD!!!!!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : jk we r objectively the best guild

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Damn right we are.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : If all goes well, we’ll probably be the richest guild, too.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : im quite fond of riches.

 

They’re evil in the best way possible, maybe.

Fenris seems like he’ll… fit in.

I mean, I don’t know about this _Hard in Hightown_ stuff, but… I’m having a moment of clarity. Compassion.

“Why is his name ‘Fenris’ if his username’s also ‘ _Fenris_?’”

Anders ruins the moment just as I’m about to go into a nostalgic flashback sequence.

“I don’t know. It’s just how it is. He’s Fenris,” I say, because I don’t see why it should matter.

“I’m just saying, maybe it’s a bit redundant?” Anders. “I think I should ask him.”

“No, I think you’re fine.” Stop!

“Blondie,” Varric warns.

“Oh, it’s just some fun! We’re all here for fun!” Anders is unphased.

“I swear, if you freak him out –“ I say, but it’s too late.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Speaking about usernames: Your name’s ‘Fenris,’ right? So why’s your username Fenris, too? You can change your name whenever, you know. It’s in Settings. Hard to miss.

 

“Noooo!” I yell. My mic picks up static.

Chat becomes a murmur of general complaints.

“What? It’s just a question!”

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lmfao only anders

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : why did u type a novel 4 us

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : thats too much 2 read

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : jfc anders

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : use proper indentations n cite ur sources

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : I can barely understand what you’re typing.

 

“He’s going to get self-conscious,” I say. “He’s going to think we’re judging him. He’s going to leave!”

“Calm down, Hawke,” Aveline says. “It’s not a big deal. Give Fenris some credit. Also, at least you’re not in the Deep Roads.”

This is very true. If I was there instead of her, they’d all probably be dead (I’m bad at multi-tasking). Lacking lyrium dust… And dangerously close to lacking Fenris. The ultimate tragedy.

“Aw, have some faith in Fenny!” Isabela sings. “It’s _Anders_!”

“At least I’m not calling him ‘Fenny,’” Anders says.

“He doesn’t know, so it doesn’t count,” Isabela states.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : fenris is my name. irl, actually.

 

“Ooh, pretty!” Isabela croons.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Huh. Really? Where are you even from? I’ve never heard of a place with names like that.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s complicated. i’d rather not get into it.

 

“He’s totally lying,” Anders says smugly.

“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” I say. “It’s _complicated_.” I can hear Zevran’s voice in my head, whispering “leader of the mafia.”

It doesn’t get to me. Because, honestly, if anyone in Wicked Grace is secretly a Mafioso, it’s Varric. That’s all I have to say.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : If you don’t like it, you can just change it, though. It’s not complicated.

 

Anders is out to ruin my life, probably.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : no. it’s complicated.

 

Definitely out to ruin my life.

“Someone’s touchy,” Anders says.

“And someone else lacks _all_ tact,” Isabela retorts.

 

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : Fenris I like your name, it is very pretty!!!! :^)

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : People say my name is weird all the time too but I think they are just jealus

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : *jealous!!!!

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : Also I am Merrill the other elf in the guild so I am very VERY happy to meet you! :^D

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : Lets kill all the people who call us Knife-Ears ok? :^D

 

“That’s our Daisy,” Varric says, fondly.

“Did I say anything strange? I’ve been thinking about what I should say for ages!” Merrill giggles.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : sure. :)

 

“He smiled!” Merrill squeals.

I’m still in shock from the Anders thing. My entire life is flashing before my eyes. I see myself, in the 7th grade, reading copious amounts of The Chronicles of Narnia and stuffing my face with pie.

Good times. Simple times.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Just be a little discreet about killing other players. I have a reputation to maintain.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : PssSSSHAW!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : U AND UR FANCY SPECIAL IN-GAME TITLE

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : I worked for this title, thank you very much.

 

Aveline was the first person to complete one of the new solo-quests a few weeks ago... When you do that, you get a title.

These titles are one of a kind and some people take them seriously. _Very_ seriously.

I mean, there are always some special requirements, depending on the quest.

Aveline got the Guard Captain one, mostly to match her username. Honestly, I can’t think of anyone better-suited to it.

I think she had to have a certain amount of constitution (that’s an in-game stat) for the quest… and she also had to have a lot of Player Commendations (which are basically awarded to you if you help people out a lot).

I mean, it’s Aveline. It’s hard _not_ to commend her.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Though anyone throwing racial slurs around likely deserves to die.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Maybe I’ll just happen to be looking the other way.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : sounds good to me.

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : Yay! :^)

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : awww why dont u ever support my personal vigilantism, big girl :(

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Because your “personal vigilantism” involves too many types of bodily fluids.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Also, pay attention – I think we might have to fight a broodmother soon.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lmao HOT

 

Aveline starts laughing. Hard. She tries to cover it up with a coughing fit. But it’s too late. She’s laughing.

Isabela starts laughing, too. “My, Aveline. I didn’t know you were secretly a pervert.”

“I’m laughing _at_ you, you absolute strumpet!”

“What’s a strumpet? Is that a pastry?” Isabela snorts. “Is it filled with cream?”

“Not far off the mark, there, Rivaini,” Varric says.

“Stop!” I’ve never heard Aveline laugh this hard.

Fenris might be weirded out at the silence, though, so I… feel bold. And decide to fill him in.

 _Not in that way_. I’m so glad I didn’t say that out loud. Isabela’s getting in my head…

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Fenris, we have a voice chatroom and just fyi, Aveline is currently laughing so hard I think she might pass out.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i don’t blame her. broodmothers are quite sexy.

 

“I have to leave,” Aveline wheezes. “I have to – I have to go. Right now. I need to get a glass of water.”

“Aw, too much for you, baby?” Isabela croons.

“Shut up!” Aveline hisses. “I’ll be back. I…” She says something else, but her headset’s off, so I can’t tell what it is.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : she had to go get a glass of water. You finished her off.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : are you in the deep roads, isabela? i can help with gathering. and with the… mother.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : oooo yes pls!!!!!!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : help us deal w mother ;) ;)

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : fyi varric + aveline are here too

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Yep. We’re fighting off legions of Darkspawn while the lovely Isabela is fawning over Fenris.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : u luv me <3

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Of course I do, darling. <3

 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Anders snickers.

“I’m going to invite him to the voice chat,” Varric declares. “Because I know that Hawke’s too much of a coward to do it.”

“I’m not a coward! I was going to!” I retort.

“Really, Hawke? Then, by all means.”

I stare at the screen. My hands hover over my keyboard.

How do I do this? I… Hey, Fenris. We want to hear your voice.

No. That’s creepy. That’s --

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Hey, Fenris. We want to hear your voice.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Join our chat. Pretty please?

 

Dammit, Varric! I accuse him of stealing my line.

“Sorry, Hawkey. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : well, i don’t have a mic.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : so you can’t hear my voice. not yet.

 

 _No_! I want to hear your voice right now!

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Aw. You could listen to use blather, though.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : And you can hear the sound of Hawke’s constant chip-crunching.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : (He’s a nervous snacker.)

 

“I am not!”

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I am not!!!!

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : haha. sure, then.

 

So… that’s happening.

I throw the bag of BBQ chips off my desk and wipe my fingers off on my shirt (I know, I’m kind of gross).

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’ll teleport over to the deep roads and meet you in the room before the mother. wait for me.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Gotcha. Isabela, add him to the party. I’ll add him to the voice chat in a bit.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : onnn it

 

“Have fun getting your dust,” Anders says, dryly.

“Oh, we will,” Isabela says. “Have fun… grinding your dust.”

I’m dizzy with emotion. I’m experiencing too much at once right now.

But above all: Fenris. He fits in so well with this… merry band of misfits.

And he didn’t leave. Even though he’s getting the full Wicked Grace experience, all at once.

Like I said… They’re evil, in the best possible way.

“Phase Two of the Operation is going to be a breeze,” Varric states. “I’m just saying.”

Or at least I hope it’s in the best possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot witnessed me speed-writing the majority of this chapter in like 20 minutes flat and they somehow managed to keep me cool, calm and collected. i have the best beta ever.


	5. Chapter 5

“I never used one of those pre-made ‘Build’ things. I just do whatever I think works.”

“Blood mages are an underused class, so I think that works for you, Merrill.”

“True! I try not to be too overpowered, but…”

“Blood magic’s balanced enough. I mean, it’s not like you aren’t half-dead all the time.”

“Hey!”

I laugh.

Merrill and I are video chatting – I’m taking a break from work (if I have to fix another one of Bodahn’s chairs, my legs will probably give out from under me, too). And, apparently, work is slow for her, so…

Yeah, we’re slacking off.

She’s in the shop with her laptop. Her hair’s in a little bun and the top of her apron says _Sabrae_ in fancy script. A bright purple candle is burning on a table behind her.

It’s a little weird, seeing Merrill outside of the MMO. I mean, when she appeared on-screen, I almost asked her where all the facial tattoos went. That’s how used to these game characters I’ve gotten.

I’m a lost cause.

“Anders always tells me I should’ve been a healer, but I think blood magic is fun,” she says. “I like the animations. They’re very brutal!”

“They _really_ are.” I grin.

“Right? I’m glad I chose this one,” Merrill says. “We’re nice and diverse.” She takes a sip of her juice box.

“All the warrior builds confuse me,” I say. I have 5 different tabs open right now and they all claim different things. “I don’t care about any of this!”

“It’s not like we’re hardcore or anything, so I don’t think it matters,” Merrill states. “Hey, do you like cucumbers?”

“Uh, yeah? They’re pretty good.”

“Tamlen brought me some cucumber soup…” She hops up from her stool and rushes off-screen. She comes back, holding a Styrofoam soup cup. “I’ve never had it. It’s cold!”

I’ve never had cucumber soup, either. “Warm it up, then.”

“No, I mean, it’s meant to be cold!” She opens the cup’s lid and stares at the soup. “It’s supposed to be nice and refreshing in summer.”

“Oh. Let me know how that goes.” I cannot take how cute Merrill is. All the time. Always.

She looks up from the soup. “I will,” she says, seriously.

Before I can reply, there’s this loud ringing noise. I yelp.

“Oh, that must be Isabela!” Merrill says. “Hang on, let me just…” She covers the soup and puts it back down, then scurries over to her laptop (she doesn’t address my high-pitched scream; this is why I adore Merrill). “Darn, my laptop’s volume is set far too high…” She clicks something – probably the “Accept Call” button.

Isabela appears.

And… isn’t wearing a shirt.

“Kitten! Daisy!” Isabela yells. “The cutest members of our sexy guild!”

Okay, never mind – she’s wearing a shirt. It’s just shoulderless and incredibly low-cut.

“Hello!” Merrill chirps.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“I could ask you the same thing, kitten!” Isabela winks at me.

I groan. “I don’t know how Bodahn does it. How does one small man break so many chairs?”

“He’s got junk in the trunk,” Isabela states. I snort.

“That would explain it,” Merrill agrees.

“Can’t he bring them in one at a time, rather than all at once?!”

Jokes aside, Bodahn runs a family restaurant called Bodahn & Sons. He couldn’t possibly break all those chairs. Not single-handedly. …His son, Sandal, probably has something to do with that.

“It’s more efficient to bring it all in at once, kitten! As for me,” Isabela taps her cheek. “I’ve got an appointment! At the dentist’s, in fact.”

“Do you really?” I know Isabela. I _know_ her.

She stares at me. Then she stares at Merrill and grins.

“Of course not. I can only do _so_ much work, you know.”

Isabela works at some office. She hates it. Apparently, she only took the job because she was deluded into thinking that it would be like some sitcom.

“I have news, though. I’m taking a bartending class, so I might be able to get a job as a bartender instead!”

“Oh, that’s lovely! That sounds more like something you would enjoy,” Merrill says.

“I can’t wait to quit,” Isabela groans. “I’m so tired of being told that I’m in _inappropriate clothing_ at work! And, no, Hawke, I wasn’t wearing this shirt there.”

“I knew that! You don’t have to clarify.”

“I’m just saying. I have big boobs. Why do they care?” She’s super pissed.

“I think your boobs are lovely, Isabela,” Merrill says.

“I agree,” I say. “Very lovely.”

“Thank you. They _are_ lovely.” She smirks. “Anyway, fuck that. I know that kitten’s slacking off, but what about our little Daisy?”

“It’s a quiet day today, so I thought I’d relax a bit!” Merrill points to the purple candle burning behind her. “Do you smell that? …Oh, I suppose you can’t… But it’s a very relaxing scent! We got a new shipment in today!”

“I’d kill to go into your hippie store at least once,” I say, because I would. I love scented candles. You don’t know true bliss until you’ve sat back in a warm bath with four vanilla-scented candles burning away around you.

Yes, I take bath time very seriously.

“It’s not a hippie store,” Merrill says, but the way she’s smiling _totally_ means that it is.

“Please. You sell every type of candle imaginable in there.” Isabela stretches. “Even the weird ones. Like… _Man Town_. Didn’t you get _Man Town_ for Anders last year?”

“I did. I think he liked it!” Merrill beams.

“Anders _would_ like Man Town,” I say. He didn’t really patronize Fenris after his little interrogation last night… but I’m still wary. Very wary. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I adore Anders. But he’s… an experience. A wild ride. Not for the faint of heart. Or the easily annoyed.

“How does Man Town even smell?” Isabela props her chin up on her hand. “Like a locker room?”  
  
“Um…” Merrill furrows her brow in concentration. “I think it smells like an armpit. But a nice one.”

“A nice armpit?” I can’t believe it.

“Yes!” Merrill smiles. “Very musky.”

“I’ll have to ask Anders about that later,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.

“Please do,” Isabela winks at me.

“Don’t you dare try to set me up with him!” _One_ operation is… already one too much, really.

“What? _Fuck_ no! I’d never!” She looks at me as if I’ve just grown a second head.

“What was that wink?!” I’ve become hypersensitive to Isabela’s shenanigans. Every little action can seal my fate.

“It’s just a reflex!” Isabela snorts. “You and Anders…” She starts laughing.

“That would never work,” Merrill says. “ _Never_.”

“What kind of person would Anders even date?!” Isabela’s still laughing.

“Someone very, very interested in the mage subplot of a MMO,” I say, dryly.

“Ooh, they have to love cats, too!” Merrill adds.

Isabela's practically crying.

“Merrill?” There’s suddenly this voice I don’t recognize.

“Oh. Oh, yes, Marethari!” Merrill glances away from her laptop. “I’m coming!” She turns back to us. “Sorry, Garrett, Isabela! I have to go!”

“Her boss,” I whisper.

“Uh oh,” Isabela whispers back; she's still a bit giggly.

Merrill gives a quick little wave and then her video call window goes black.

“She’ll be fine, Marethari’s... nice.” At least from what Merrill’s told me, she seems nice.

“No one was there, anyway. And she was advertising _Man Town_.” Isabela wrinkles her nose. “God! Who even makes a candle like that?!”

I laugh. “Oh, right. We were looking at some builds earlier. I’m trying to be an un-shitty tank.”

“An un-shitty tank?” She raises an eyebrow. “You? Impossible.”

“I love having your support. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m just messing with you, kitten,” Isabela says. She blows me a kiss. “Don’t bother with what those nerds on the forums say. You’re doing fine! I mean, we have two other tanks now, so you can afford to be lazy!”

“I don’t want Fenris to think I’m _bad_ at the game or anything!” That’s the Number One Fear, at this point. Fenris… Thinking that I’m inept.

I have an image to maintain. I swooped in and rescued him from a mob of skeletons! …Which he could’ve probably dealt with himself. Judging by how quickly the Broodmother fight went last night, he _knows_ what he’s doing.

“Hey, if he doesn’t love your awful tanking, then he’s not worth your time,” Isabela says. She reaches into a drawer and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “And, believe me, I’m _sure_ he’ll love it.”

“Isabela, it’s the middle of the day.”

“I know.” She yanks the cap off and takes a long sip.

“Garrett.”

“Holy shit!” I jump.

Carver’s standing in my doorway. Miles is by his side.

“Oh my, looks like the kitten’s in trouble.” Isabela giggles.

“H-How did you -?!” Oh, right. The spare key. I really need to take that back.

Carver’s flushed and glaring at me. Miles, on the other hand, is indifferent.

I turn back to Isabela. “I, uh, have to go.”

“I can see that. Have fun!” She knocks more whiskey back ask I close my laptop.

Shit. Now I have to face him. I turn around slowly. Very slowly. I do my best Garrett Grin (which is supposedly very charming if you squint).

“Who were you talking to?” His voice sounds weirdly throaty.

“Uh, Isabela?” I stand up and adjust my work shirt. “You’ve talked to her before.”

“No… Not her.” He frowns. “The… Other one.”

“Uh, Merrill?” Now that I think about it, Carver doesn’t know Merrill. I don’t think they’ve ever talked, but I _know_ I’ve mentioned her to him before.

Carver just stares at me. It gets weird. Miles snorts and waddles over to me.

“I’m ready to fix more chairs!” I say, half-heartedly, in an attempt to snap my brother out of whatever trance-like state he’s trapped himself in. He blinks a few times and rubs at his face.

“Yeah. Chairs. Right. Come on. Mom’s going to _kill_ you.”

I’m surprised that _Carver_ didn’t kill me, to be honest. But I’m not complaining.

 

~

 

“Why are we doing this again?!”

Isabela, Fenris, Merrill and I are standing by the entrance to a dungeon. I usually hate all dungeons equally, but… this one? This one. The Bone Pit. It’s my second-least favorite one in the game.

(My least favorite’s the Deep Roads. I swear, if you invite me to a party and somehow con me into going into the Deep Roads, I _will_ disconnect. I don’t care if you’re a party of three mages, all oriented around healing. I will leave you all in the dust. That’s just how life works sometimes.)

“We need a Dragon’s Fang for the Herbalist quest,” Isabela says. “And The Bone Pit’s final boss is…”

“A dragon!” Merrill announces.

Party chat lights up.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i hate this place.

 

He can hear us, but we can’t hear him yet. He said he’d buy a headset, soon… Anyway. He’s stuck typing in Party chat until then. It was kind of awkward at first, but now… I think I’m used to it.

“See?! Fenris is with me on this one!” I’m so pissed. “We don’t even have a healer!”

“Anders had to run off at the last minute,” Isabela says. Her character puts a hand on her hip and starts tapping her foot impatiently. “Something about a ‘deal gone bad.’ Who knows? Who cares? We have Merrill!”

“Merrill, I adore you and all, but you can’t heal. In fact, you do the opposite of healing.”

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : even if we had a healer…

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’d still hate this place.

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : did any of you read about its history? atrocious.

 

“Ooh, yes! The slave overseer man!” Merrill says. “He’d throw his slaves to the dragons. Very nasty.”

I groan. “Let’s just go back to Kirkwall and work on crafting stuff.”

“Kitten, that is the attitude of a loser!” Isabela declares.

Whisper chat flashes.

 

[W] _Isabela_ [ **likebigboats69** ]: STOP BEING SUCH A PANSY U WIMPY L O S E R

[W] _Isabela_ [ **likebigboats69** ]: be a big strong boy for fenris plz

[W] _Isabela_ [ **likebigboats69** ]: its hard to make u seem appealing when ur a whiny baby

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : but I don’t like dungeons!!!!!!

 

She _does_ have a point. But I’m not going to admit it.

“Ugh. Fine. Fine! Just…” Miles is licking my foot. A lot. “Argh! Miles! Stop! That’s a distraction!” I nudge him away with my other foot.

 

[W] _Isabela_ [ **likebigboats69** ]: DO NOT START THE DOG TALK I AM CHANGING THE SUBJECT IMMEDIATELY

 

“Good! Well then, let’s be off!” Isabela charges into the cave.

 

 _Dungeon_ [ **_The Bone Pit_ ** ] _commenced._

 

“Let’s kill the dragon!” Merrill runs in after her.

I groan again. “Fenris, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s fine. let’s make the most of it.

 

~

 

The Bone Pit Mines are so gross. They're mossy and muddy and every time a giant spider leaps down on us, I scream. Merrill does, too. Though she seems to think they’re cute. So I guess they’re screams of glee.

Isabela will _not_ stop laughing at me, but she’s being good-natured about it.

Fenris seems to be enjoying himself, too. (If he had a mic, I’d know for sure…)

I’m trying my best to be a good tank, but… He holds aggro so well. You can’t even tell that I suck, actually.

He’s just _that good_.

He keeps spouting off random bits of lore about the mine, but he keeps it appropriate and short (unlike a certain mage we all know and love), so it’s… nice. It makes me wish that I paid attention to that sort of thing. So we could have something to talk about.

Every time he types something, I just stare at the text and say “uh-huh” over and over. “Wow,” too. I say “wow” a lot.

Uh-huh. Wow.

But that’s okay, right? Enthusiasm’s great! And it’s not like I’m trying to be _appealing_ to him…

Okay, maybe a little.

He lands a particularly flashy attack on a particularly large spider labelled ‘Spider Queen.’ He glows light blue and soars through it.

It slowly sags to the ground, its HP reduced to 0.

“Wow!” I say. “Fenris, you’re – that was amazing.”

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : thanks. i like trying out cross-class stuff.

 

“Impressive!” Isabela slices right through a giant spider. “You should teach Hawkey here how to tank properly. He’s a mess.”

“I’m only partially a mess, actually,” I say as I finish off a giant spider, myself.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i think you’re fine.

 

Whisper chat flashes. I hesitate before switching tabs.

 

[W] _Isabela_ [ **likebigboats69** ]: HE THINKS UR FINEEEEEEEEE

 

I make a suspiciously moany noise (what the fuck, self) but skillfully morph said noise into a cough. I switch back to Party chat, because I can’t possibly reply to that. I can’t do it.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i enjoy the classes of this mmo because they don’t have set molds to fill.

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : you might not be an amazing tank, but you do a lot of damage. most tanks cannot.

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : if you add some more constitution, you’d be a threat to other warriors. particularly if they are focused on pure tank builds.

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : in a solo pvp battle, for example, you’d easily overpower them.

 

I’m bright red.

That may just be the nicest thing anyone’s ever told me about my gaming skills. Ever. I can’t form words. I just stare at the screen.

“Ooh, Fenris! You know what you’re talking about!” Merrill coos. “I’m so glad you joined us! I have an idea. Why don’t you teach Garrett how to be stronger?!”

Oh my god.

Did Merrill just start Phase Two of Operation: Hard in Hightown?

Is that an actual thing that just happened?

Of all the people… _Merrill_?

“Uh, you don’t have to! I’m kinda working stuff out. Gradually.” I don’t want to bother him or come across as too needy. That… would be bad. It’s good that he doesn’t think that I suck, though. Very good.

 _He thinks I’m fine_.

“But Garrett, you went through so many builds online! And you couldn’t understand a single one!”

He wasn’t supposed to know that, Merrill.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : that’s okay. i don’t understand half of those, either.

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i will help you if you want help.

 

“Oh, he wants help,” Isabela cackles.

“Shut up!” My cheeks are still burning. I’m so glad we’re not video chatting. _So_ glad. “It’s rough, trying to work it all out on my own!” I laugh and sound kind of manic.

 _I will help you if you want help_.

Miles hops up onto my bed.

That’s usually a no-Miles zone, but I’ll let it slide.

 _I will help you if you want help_.

Whisper chat flashes.

 

[W] _Merrill_ [ **bloodydaisies** ]: You are welcome Garrett <3 :^)

 

I can’t believe it. Merrill’s a mastermind. A tiny cucumber soup-consuming mastermind.

“Anyway, it’s time for the big boss!” Isabela announces. She pumps a fist into the air.

We’re all standing around, covered in blood and surrounded by spider corpses.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : yes. we should move on.

 

“Ooh, I’m so excited! I love fighting these things. They’re so big!” I can hear Merrill clap her hands together. “Let me just cast a quick buff…” She glows red. I don’t _get_ blood magic at all.

I have no idea how we’re not dead yet, honestly.

Isabela, the epitome of a sensible rogue, charges into the boss’ room first. We rush in after her.

We’re not in the cave anymore. Now… we’re on a stone platform, facing a particularly bleak landscape. The dragon screeches at us, then soars down. Its wings are dark purple. They block out the sun.

I love dragons. I really do.

“I love dragons!” I say as it lands and spews flames all over me.

“No shit,” Isabela retorts. She pulls her daggers out. “Ready?”

“Yes!” Merrill says.

“Alrighty!” I’m still aflame, but I grab my sword and slash at the dragon’s face.

 

[ _Friendly Fire Mode Activated -_ **likebigboats69** ]

 

“Wha –”

Isabela slices right through me.

Quickly. Brutally.

She stands in front of me and twirls her daggers, then sheaths them in one fluid motion.

And I… am dead.

“ISABELA?!” I yell. Miles snorts and writhes around in my bed. “Isabela, what the _fuck_ was –”

“Sorry, kitten. Gotta stick to my guns,” she starts slashing away at the dragon. “And you abandoned me last time.”

Oh my god.

The Darkspawn.

_Bethany! Zevran! It’s their fault!_

“That wasn’t my fault! I can’t believe it! Murder! Foul play! I -”

My poor flaming corpse glows red. The red aura leads to Merrill’s character.

“What the fuck?!”

She gains a ton of HP.

“It’d be an awful waste,” she explains.

 

[P] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : grim sacrifice. nice.

 

Blood magic! “Buff” my ass! I was plotted against!

“I’ve been cruelly betrayed!” I mourn for my poor character.

“Oh, suck it up,” Isabela says.

“ _Et tu, Brute_?!”

Isabela and Merrill start laughing. Fenris probably is, too.

I wish I could hear him.

And I kind of hate myself for wishing that I could hear him… because… the variables. I don’t even know him…

Despite it all, I start cracking up.

I watch them bring the Dragon down, and I pretend to be offended when Merrill innocently states that it would’ve taken longer if I was alive.

(She’s right, though. I love dragons too much for me to be of any use when fighting them. I tend to get distracted by how cool their wings are.)

Isabela grabs the Dragon Fang and we warp back to Kirkwall.

As Isabela hands it over to the Herbalist NPC, my Whisper window flashes.

 

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : let me know if you want to go over warrior stuff.

[W] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’d honestly be happy to help you.

 

My chest hurts from laughing so hard and my cheeks still burn. Merrill and Isabela are oblivious - they're too busy mocking the Herbalist NPC's awful hairstyle.

And... Even though I don't want him to know just how inept I truly am... 

Even though it's a risk, and there's still all these _variables_...

I want to get to know him. 

 

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I’d really, really like that!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, man town is a real candle scent. thank you mary aka snoot for being an awesome beta yet again, and also for going through candle scent catalogues with me for hours when i maaaaybe should've been writing. honestly, i feel enlightened.
> 
> (also, to avoid any possible confusion: whisper chat functions as private messaging between two players. likewise, party chat is limited to the party, and guild chat is limited to the guild.)


	6. Chapter 6

“He said he’d help me get better at the game and I accepted.”

“Goodness, Gare!” Zevran cackles. “Making your move, eh? You have such charm.”

I groan. I’m sprawled out on my couch… like a beached whale. I have no idea where Miles is.

Work was tough and I don’t have the energy to deal with Wicked Grace right now, especially since there’s this new Fenris development.

He said he’d be happy to help me. Happy to help _me_.

I groan again and roll onto my side, balancing my phone on my shoulder.

“And yet, you do not seem thrilled. Why is that?”

Zevran’s my go-to when it comes to this sort of thing. He understands my incoherent groaning.

“Because…” I groan some more. “Because he’ll find out that I suck!”

“Calm down. He said you were fine, did he not?” I keep forgetting that Isabela and Zevran are friends.

“I rely on luck! Adrenaline! Momentum!” I gesticulate wildly. “Not stats and builds and _rotations_!”

“I swear, it is like you are speaking in a different language,” Zevran mutters. “Ah! Hold still!”

“What?” I’m still. I’m on a couch. “Why do you want me to be still?” I sit up. “What are you doing?!”

“Not you, you dork,” Zevran says. “I’m braiding Cousland’s hair.”

Cousland. Tall, scary, pierced Cousland… With a braid in his hair.

“He’s letting you braid his hair?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Cousland’s letting you braid his hair?”

“Yes.”

“Right. So, when’s the wedding?”

“Shush!” Zevran splutters. “Why… You! Do not tease me just because you cannot face your serial killer boyfriend!”

“He’s not a serial killer!”

“Prove it.”

“He’s just not! Also, he’s not my boyfriend!”

“He will not _ever_ be if you cannot talk to him, one-on-one! So get it together.”

“I’m just not like you!” I flop back down onto the couch.

“Oh? And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You were sucking Cousland’s face before you even knew his name!”

“And look at how far I’ve gotten,” Zevran says smugly. “You helped me with that, you know. So drop the pathetic act before I go over there and _make_ you.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Cousland grunts in the background.

I groan some more.

“Listen, come whining to me when he is visiting you in real life,” Zevran says. “I will help you look, ah, presentable.”

“I’m totally presentable. At all times.”

“You tuck your work shirt into your pants, Gare.”

“Excuse me for trying to maintain professionalism!”

“Whatever.” Zevran clears his throat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am tired of listening to you whine and am in desperate need of a ravishing. See you tomorrow, Gare!”

“Right. Thanks!” I say. “Don’t go overboard and call in sick. I’ll know the truth.”

“No promises!” Zevran laughs and hangs up.

I drop my phone on the floor, flop over onto my stomach and groan. Then I flop onto my back and stare at my ceiling fan.

Honestly? I’m perfectly content with being single. Really. I’m not the kind of person who actively seeks that sort of stuff out, especially since my last relationship was a mess in _every_ sense of the word.

This might be stating the obvious, but… I’m awful at meeting people.

Like... How do you even meet people?

I’m not a party person at all. I have no tolerance, alcohol-wise, and I’m awful at dealing with drunk people. One time, in college, a drunk guy tried to make out with me and I punched him in the face. Needless to say, I didn’t go to many parties after that.

Not that there’s anything wrong with going out. I just like quiet things. Books. Games. Et cetera. I like carpentry, because I’m good at fixing things. _Quietly_. There’s no _fuss_ , unless I want to complain or whatever.

Repetitiveness aside, it felt good to repair Bodahn’s chairs.

It felt even better when Bethany tricked Carver into sitting on one which wasn’t fixed up yet.

You’d think I’d be more-or-less content to be a hermit (once I can keep Miles around), but I crave attention. All the time. The majority of my friends (Wicked Grace) are so far away from me, and yet… The amount of nagging which goes down… You’d think we were neighbors or something.

I mean, sometimes you’re just not _physically_ close to all the people who you’re _emotionally_ close to. Life works out like that. And that’s okay.

Think about it – if you _only_ interacted with people who’re near to you, you’d be limiting yourself… a lot.

Distance can suck, but we’re all people and our connections don’t have a limit. We have phones. Instant messaging. Video chatting. Ridiculously overrated MMOs. All these amazing things… And there’s ways of meeting up, too. Planes! Cars! Boats!

Overcome with emotion, I hug a pillow. I love my friends, even though they’re all evil and conniving.

Even Merrill. I can’t believe it.

Aerosmith’s _I Don’t Want to Miss A Thing_ starts blaring from the general direction of my phone.

I sing along to it a little before checking the Caller ID. Anders. The least-likely person to nag me about Fenris stuff.

“Hey,” I say, cautiously.

“Garrett.” He sounds out of breath. “Garrett! I need a favor!”

“What kind of favor?” I ask, even more cautiously.

“I need you to do a search for me.”

“A search? Like, on Google?”

“Yeah, sure! Whatever!”

This is so Anders. “Why can’t you do it yourself?!”

“Because… I just can’t!”

“This is _really_ suspicious, I’ll have you know,” I say, because it is.

“Look, I need you to look up the engine which the MMO runs on.”

“The MMO we play together?”

There’s a long pause.

“No, Garrett. Any random MMO.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense –”

Anders lets out a frustrated, throat-gurgle noise. “Yes, Garrett, the engine of the one we play!”

“But you just said –”

He gurgles some more.

“This sounds illegal. I want no part in illegal activities,” I state.

“It’s not illegal! It’s just a Google search!”

“Which _you_ can’t do, so there has to be something illegal about it!”

“Fine, fine.” Anders grunts. “I’ll just ask Merrill.”

I make a mental note to text Merrill as soon as possible. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing. What’s up?” Anders is all _pleasant_ now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not _that_ gullible, I just don’t actually want to know about what he’s scheming… So changing the subject seems like the best option.

“I’m just being pathetic. I was talking to Zevran about it. Now I’m just staring at a ceiling fan.”

“Who’s Zevran?” Oh, right, I guess Anders never met Zevran.

They wouldn’t get along. At all.

“He’s my friend.”

“You have friends?”

I sit up. “Ha, ha, ha!” I laugh monotonously. “That’s funny! Thank you!”

“I’ll be here all night,” Anders says; I can tell that he’s grinning. “Speaking of which, are you going online tonight?”  
  
“I dunno yet. Maybe.” I stretch.

Miles wanders into the living room, holding a chew toy in his mouth and looking pleased with himself.

“You should. I think Varric said something about another guild member.”

“ANOTHER WHAT?!” I launch myself off the couch and startle Miles, who drops his chew toy.

“Eh, it’s still a maybe at his point,” Anders says. “A guy left his big-name guild and he somehow knows your weird boyfriend.”

“Please don’t call him weird, and definitely do _not_ call him my boyfriend,” I say. “Are you online?!”

“Not right now, no. I was trying to do some, uh, research.” Right, the reason he called me. _Right_.

“I’m going to get on!” I scramble up the stairs and into my room.

“I’ll join you soon,” Anders says. “I just have to do some stuff.”

“Okay, don’t do anything illegal.”

“I _told_ you –”

I hang up on him and throw my phone onto my bed, then dive in front of my laptop and turn it on. As stuff loads up, I glance back at the doorframe. I think I pissed Miles off, because he didn’t follow me. Oops.

I log into the MMO and, sure enough, Varric and Aveline are online. I activate voice chat and pull my headset on.

“ – I’m just saying, it’s suspicious. Why is he looking to join our guild when he has a perfectly good one waiting for him?” Aveline asks.

“Who knows? It doesn’t matter -- just look at his _stats_!” Varric replies.

“Are we getting a new guild member?!” I blurt out.

“It’s still a maybe. We’re with him in Kirkwall right now.” Aveline sighs.

“Red’s making this more difficult than it should be. He’s in Holy Armor! Look at his belt!” Varric’s _really_ excited. “It’s Andraste. He has an Andraste belt. That’s incredible.”

“That _is_ pretty incredible,” I say.

“He was a member of Chant of Light,” Aveline says. “Yes. _The_ Chant of Light.”

“Holy shit!” Chant of Light’s one of the most popular guilds in the game. They’re hardcore. They even have custom armor… Some members speak _solely_ in lore terms. Andraste… The Maker… All of that. They make me nervous. Every time I see a member, I feel unworthy. I don’t know much about lore. I feel like their unparalleled knowledge will somehow cause me to burst into flames.

In real life.

“Indeed.” Aveline sighs again. “He was also a member of Starkhaven before he joined Chat of Light. He was actually next in line to _lead_ Starkhaven.”

“So he’s doubly important? And he wants to join our guild? An important person?” I babble.

“Yep. He minds his manners, too, unlike the entirety of Wicked Grace.” Varric laughs. “I guess the Elf’s polite enough. Daisy has her moments. Anyway, his name’s Sebastian. Username’s ‘exiled prince.’ That’s one word. Exiledprince.”

“Anders said he knows him! Fenris, I mean.” I can’t form sentences properly. This is happening too fast. “I mean -- Fenris knows the new guy.”

“Allegedly,” Varric replies. “Come see for yourself, Hawke.”

“Oh, god. No. I’m bad with new people.” I walk over to a nearby bench (I spawned at the Dalish elf camp) and sit next to a grumpy-looking bearded NPC. “I’m just confused! Where are they coming from?!”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Aveline huffs. “Listen, I’m not against him joining, but his track record’s a bit shaky. We might get Wicked Grace involved in something we’re not prepared for.”

“It’s just a game, Red,” Varric says, smoothly. “What’s the worst they could do? Call us naughty things?”

“I have a reputation to maintain. Also, you’re being too _friendly_ with him,” Aveline retorts.

“And you’re being too _hostile_. He’s so cutesy and unassuming! Look at his proper grammar and syntax!”

“Do we need another rogue?”

“Hey,” Varric gets serious. “You can never have enough rogues.”

 

“Here, here! _” Isabela [_ **likebigboats69** _] is online_.

 

“Rivaini! You got my text!” Varric’s overjoyed.

“I did. I also just got home from work. They had me working overtime, can you _believe_ that?!” Isabela groans. “Where is he? Where’s the priest? I’m ready to corrupt him!”

“I can’t believe you summoned the _temptress_ ,” Aveline mutters.

“I figured we needed Isabela’s womanly charm,” Varric says. “To, you know… Speed the process.”

“Hey!” Aveline snaps.

“No offense, Red, but I think your type of womanly charm’s doing the opposite of that."

“How does he look? Someone needs to send me a screenshot,” I squeak.

“I’ll do it. Ooh! He’s so cute! Look at his hair!” Isabela squeals.

This… is good. They’ll have someone else to harass. Someone who’s not Fenris.

 _Fenris_.

My stomach does a few flips.

“Urgh.” The flips make me nauseated.

“You okay, Hawke?” Aveline asks.

“I… yeah…” I mutter.

 _Click_.

“Kitten, go on the IM client. I’m sending you the file.”

I tab out of the MMO and open our IM client. Isabela immediately sends me the file, and I download it.

“Bloody hell, he types like a nerd.” Isabela cackles.

“He types like a choir boy. I bet he’s a choir boy,” Varric states.

“What did I tell you about fabricating elaborate backstories for people you don’t know?” Aveline asks monotonously.

“It’s no fun if I just write it down!” Varric exclaims.

It’s weird listening to them without that much context, but I’m already forming a mental picture.

 _Download complete_. I click “Open” and am presented with…

A startlingly high-definition screenshot of Fenris and me, fighting off the skeletons.

“Oh my god.”

Fenris looks so pro. He’s scowling and _glowing_. He’s ferocious! I’m…yelling. My mouth is wide open. Significantly less ferocious.

“Oh my god!”

“I fixed it up in Photoshop!” Isabela announces. “Isn’t it _gorgeous_?”

“Have you already started manipulating images of Sebastian?” Aveline sounds so tired.

“No, that was one dedicated to the budding Hawke-Fenris romance,” Isabela replies. “Here’s Sebastian, kitten.”

“Oh my god,” I repeat.

She sends another file.

Varric and Isabela start laughing. Aveline groans.

“Isabela…”

They’re messing with Sebastian. I want no part in this, but I do hope that he joins… Especially since he’s Fenris’ friend…

Fenris. Urgh. More stomach flips.

Where is Miles?!

“Miles!” I call out. “C’mere, boy!”

No one reacts. Not even Miles.

I open the file Isabela sent.

Sebastian’s impressive. Brown hair, slicked back. Light brown skin and _very_ blue eyes. His Holy Armor is white and gold (and, yes, he does have the Andraste belt). It looks expensive. He has a fancy bow strapped onto his back.

“Fenris knows this guy.” I’m suddenly very self-conscious.

Fenris knows a guy with an Andraste belt.

That belt’s worth more than me… And all my savings.

In real life.

I frown.

“Jeez, kitten. Why don’t you come over here?” Isabela asks. “You need to pass judgment, too!”

“I’m fine over here.” I sulk. Why did I even come online?! “He looks fancy.”

 

 _Anders [_ **magerightsactivist** _] is online._

 

Anders appears on my screen – he’s standing a few feet away.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“We’re talking with the possible recruit,” Aveline replies. “In the chat window, obviously. No microphones. He can’t hear us.”

“And we’re in Kirkwall,” Isabela adds.

Ever faithful to his Kirkwall boycott, Anders makes a gagging sound. “Wait… Why’s Hawke sitting on a bench all by his lonesome?”

“I’m being kept updated,” I say.

Anders runs up to me. “Have you finally realized how oppressive Kirkwall is?!”

“No.” I roll my eyes, even though I know Anders can’t see that. “I’m still getting over the trauma of _one_ new person. I don’t want to say something weird and spawn _another_ Operation: Hard in Hightown.”

“You wound me, Hawke!” Varric chuckles.

“That’s exactly how it happened!” I exclaim, because it totally is.

“For starters, we’re not in Hightown right now.” Wow, Varric, that makes all the difference! “And we’re taking the real Operation _very_ seriously. You and the Elf are meant to be. I’m telling you.”

“Right! Sure!” I say.

Anders walks over and takes a seat next to me.

“Did you hear that he’s going to teach Hawke some one-on-one stuff?” Isabela giggles.

“He is?!” Anders sounds genuinely surprised.

“Meant. To. Be,” Varric repeats.

“I don’t know how I feel about Fenris,” Anders says. “He’s too uptight.”

I frown again.

“You’re just bitter because he’s not afraid to call you out when you’re being a tit,” Aveline retorts.

She’s always got my back.

“Ugh, he needs to sign in.” Isabela sighs. “I want to see how familiar he is with Sebastian!”

“What if they’re dating?” Anders asks, in a carefully disinterested way, which makes his question sting even more.

I hate that it stings.

“They’re not. He’s single.” Isabela responds quickly. “I asked him after the Bone Pit.”

I let out a sigh of relief… But then I realize… Isabela! Probing for personal details!

“Don’t probe him for personal details!”

“Give me a break, kitten,” Isabela replies. “I know you’re relieved.”

Why does she know me so well?!

I say nothing.

“Someone should send me a screenshot of Sebastian,” Anders says.

“I’ll do it.” I open the client and send over the same screenshot that Isabela took. “Isabela took it, by the way.”

 

 _Fenris [_ **Fenris** _] is online._

 

My stomach does the flip thing. _Again_.

Why me?

“Yes!” Isabela cheers. “Fenris! You’re finally here!”

I almost forgot that he can hear us… He’s online in the IM Client, yet still mic-less.

“We’re in Kirkwall with Sebastian,” Varric adds.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : he contacted wicked grace?

 

“Yes! How long have you two known each other?!” Isabela’s conspiratory tone is back. “He’s so fucking fancy! He has a small Andraste head above his dick!”

“Holy shit, he does!” Ah, yeah, Anders has the screenshot and is probably in the process of scrutinizing Sebastian’s choice in belt buckles.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : yeah… he does.

 

I snort. That reaction… It’s so _Fenris_.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : we’re more like acquaintances.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : he tried to get me to join chant of light a few times.

 

Wait…

He got invited to Chant of Light multiple times? And he joined _Wicked Grace_?!

“This right here proves that we’re better than everyone else,” Varric says.

My whisper chat window flashes.

 

[W] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Congrats, Hawke. You recruited a guy who refused Chant of Light.

[W] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : L-O-L.

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I am so confused right now, you dont even know

[W] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : I’m not. :)

 

Dammit!

I tab back into Guild Chat.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha. perhaps.

 

“I like that you’re all ignoring Sebastian while I’m left answering his endless questions,” Aveline says wryly.

“Love ya, big girl!” Isabela coos.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’ll be in kirkwall soon.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’m setting up something. i. uh.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : bought that headset thing.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : that’s why i’m kind of late.

 

He…

He bought a headset.

Oh my god. _Fenris_. Voice!

Fenris’ _voice_!

“Woah!” I say intelligently. “You got one?!”

“ _Finally_!” Isabela yells.

“Great, now I don’t have to keep _reading_ every little thing you say,” Anders says.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : aw. i’m touched that you actually read what i have to say, anders.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s an honor.

  
“Yeah, yeah!” Anders grumbles.

“Okay, that’s Fenris’ number one priority right now,” Varric states. “Aveline, Isabela and I will deal with Sebastian. And…” He pauses. “Hawke. Blondie. Why are you even here?”

“I’m just seeking companionship,” I say.

“I think I’ll go level.” Anders gets off the bench and runs off.

“Thanks, Anders.”

“Aveline, you’re being mean!” Isabela wails.

“I’m not! I’m asking a simple question!”

“What did she ask?” My voice sounds more throaty than usual and I can’t stop bouncing my leg in place.

“I just asked why he doesn’t want to go back to Starkhaven instead. He’s supposed to lead that guild, isn’t he?”

“It’d be nice if we could recruit someone without hounding them down for details about their past,” I say, wistfully.

“Hmph,” Aveline says.

But that’s the least of my concerns.

Fenris’ voice.

I’ve thought about it before, but… I don’t know what to expect. Will it be low? High? Soft? Loud? Will he have an accent? The first time I heard Varric’s voice, I totally freaked out. It’s so… warm. God, what if Fenris has a Varric voice?! I’ll die.

Everyone’s chattering about Sebastian (well, everyone except Fenris, who’s setting stuff up), but I can’t focus on what they’re saying.

I feel like I’m about to have an emotion overload.

Fenris has been listening to _my_ voice, and I’m about to listen to _his_. What does he even think about my voice? My voice cracks a lot. I also tend to talk too fast. I’ve been accused of blabbering a lot.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : okay, it’s ready.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i think.

 

I’m not!

I’m not ready!

“Yes!” Isabela doesn’t even try to tone down her excitement.

“It’s a shame that Merrill’s not here for this,” Aveline murmurs.

“Why? It’s not like he’ll never talk again,” Anders points out.

“Alright, kids… Let’s give the Elf an opportunity to speak,” Varric says.

“I’m the same age as you!” Aveline says, indignant. Varric just laughs.

The chat goes silent.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’m sorry. i don’t know what to say.

 

 _Fuck_ , that’s cute.

Everyone laughs… except for me. I’m red. Bright red. I need to control myself.

I don’t trust myself with words (or actions) right now. I’m sitting rigidly… I’m barely breathing.

“Alright! Alright!” Isabela claps her hands together. “Say this. Say –”

“No. Not that.” Aveline (rightfully) interrupts. Isabela makes a loud protesting noise. “Just say… ‘Hello. This is Fenris.’”

“Boring,” Isabela mutters.

“…Okay. Hello. This is Fenris.”

_Holy shit._

Isabela squeals. Loudly.

His voice…

It’s deep. It’s low. It’s sharp and quiet and he has this distinct accent which shakes me to my core. Have you ever _felt_ a sound in your body? Because… I can now say that I have.

I can feel it in my face. In my chest. In my stomach.

And… somewhere else, too.

I cover my face with my hands. Varric launches into a speech about how great technology is.

Fenris laughs softly. Quietly. It’s more of a short chuckle, really. It suits him… It’s Fenris.

And I feel sensitive. Too sensitive.

I’m the 16-year-old staring up at the most attractive guy in the school. The guy who’s out of my league. He’s walking up to me and asking me where the teacher’s photocopied worksheets are. And I open my mouth but no words come out, so he just stares at me as if I’m some kind of really uncool fish monster and it all goes to hell.

Except that guy was an ass. And Fenris… Isn’t an ass.

I, however, am still a coward.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the speech, Varric, but I think we have to deal with Sebastian,” Fenris says, in his _Fenris_ voice which I wasn’t ready for at all.

“I agree,” Aveline says. “Though it _is_ nice to hear you, Fenris. Feels like you’re really a member of the guild now.”

“Hm,” Fenris says.

Whisper chat flashes.

 

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : OMG R U HEARING THIS GUY!!!

 

I can’t even reply. I’m _trying_ to breathe.

This is how Garrett Hawke does romance, everyone. Let it be known.

 

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : are u afk hawke wtf

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : No im here

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : r u ok???

 

I’m okay. I’m just overwhelmed and on a bench far away from Kirkwall.

That’s when I hear dog feet. I turn around to see Miles bounding into the room, his chew toy in his mouth.

“Miles!” I yell without thinking. At least my dog forgives me.

 

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : hawke i s2g.

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : if u start this dog talk now im gunna kill u. again.

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : im gunna warp to the dalish fuckin camp and im going to kill you.

 

“Miles?” Fenris asks.

He’s talking to me. _He’s talking to_ **_me_** _._

My fight or flight reflex kicks in. And I can’t fight, because there’s nothing to fight against (well, except myself, maybe). So that leaves…

Flight.

“Sorry, guys!” I say. “Miles finally forgave me, so I’m going for a walk with him!”

Miles waddles up to me and looks at me. Adorably.

 

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : u are a fuckin pansy.

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i cant believe it.

 

“It’s been way too long,” I say, even though I walked him this morning. “Good luck with Sebastian! And I’mgladyouhaveamicnow, Fenris!”

“Thanks,” Fenris says. He sounds confused.

“Typical,” Anders says.

“Talk to you later!” I say.

“See ya, Hawke,” Varric says. “Give Miles a big kiss for me.”

“Will do.” Can we please not discuss _kissing_ right now?!

“Bye, Garrett,” Fenris says.

“Bye!” I’m speaking at a shamefully high pitch...

I slam my laptop shut and take my headset off.

Miles puts his chew toy by my feet and gives me his signature critical stare.

“Don’t even!” I get up and walk over to my bed. “Don’t even start!”

He whines pitifully.

“I know I’m pathetic,” I say. “I know that.” I grab my phone and start dialing a number before I can even process what’s happening. Then I press the Call button and wait.

“Hello?”

“Zevran, I heard his voice!” I wail. “I heard it and I couldn’t take it! I ran away and now Miles is judging me and Isabela called me a pansy. Fenris probably hates me now! How do I fix this? What do I do?!”

“This is Cousland, Garrett.” Oh.

That’s not Zevran’s voice at all.

There’s an awkward silence between us.

“Um… Can I speak to Zevran?” I feel like a small child.

“He’s busy right now, actually.” Cousland remains unaffected. “But I can tell him to call you back later.”

“Who is that?” I can hear Zevran’s voice in the background.

It dawns on me that I’m interrupting something.

Something... Explicit.

“Yeah! That sounds good. Very good!” I’m doing the high-pitched voice thing again. “Keep it up! Have fun! Be safe!”

“Okay,” Cousland says. “Bye.”

Tonight is officially too much.

I roll over onto my stomach and bury my face in a pillow. Miles hops up next to me. I scratch his ear.

“Isabela’s right. I’m a pansy.”

But why does Fenris have a perfect voice?!

I close my eyes and I picture his character speaking with that voice.

It’s too much.

I sit up and I glance at Miles. Miles stares back at me.

“I need to clear my head,” I tell him. “We’re going for a walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> formal apology to mary aka snoot since i almost killed her with this chapter (she is a fantastic beta) (everyone should passionately appreciate her).


	7. Chapter 7

“No, no! You’re getting it mixed up. The headboard gets attached to the long wooden things –” 

“The long wooden things?”

“Yeah, the… Things. They’re wooden and long.”

“Garrett…” Aveline sighs. “There are three items here which fit that exact description.”

“You made the basic frame, right? So now you just attach headboard with the metal things.”

“Long wooden things. Metal things!” Aveline sighs more. “These _things_!”

“I don’t know the fancy names!” I say. “IKEA’s confusing.”

Aveline called me two hours ago. She got a new apartment and is in the process of setting everything up. Since I’m supposedly a carpenter, I was her go-to for assistance.

Her current enemy is a bedframe from IKEA.

“Okay, wait,” she says. “I think I see what you’re talking about.”

I’m on speaker phone so I can hear her shuffling around her room. We _would_ do this on video chat, but her computer hasn’t been set up yet. Also, she claims it doesn’t give her enough mobility, which is true, I guess.

“There are too many things to screw into place,” she says. “And I feel comfortable saying this around you because you’re not Isabela.”

I try to hide my giggle but it escapes in the form of a loud squeak.

“I can hear you, Hawke,” she says, but I know she’s smiling.

I clear my throat. “Do you have it, then?”

“Oh, forget it.” She throws something. I hear it thud onto the floor. “I don’t need a bedframe tonight. I’ll just ask a guy from the station to help with it tomorrow.”

“You’re inviting a guy to your apartment?” I laugh.

“Shut it,” she replies. Her voice is clearer – she must’ve turned off speaker phone. “He’s no one.”

Wait, what?

“Things with Fenris have been going well, haven’t they?” She asks.

“Yeah! Sometimes I can even talk to him without breaking into a sweat.” Okay, I lied. Sweat’s involved every time. I also sometimes have to pretend that I’m talking to someone else. 

On the bright side: my warrior training has been going really well. Fenris doesn’t really know the sheer magnitude of my ineptness. I’m good at masking it, I guess. Either that or… He’s humoring me.

“Wow, that’s something,” Aveline says.

“I’m sure it’ll get easier once I know how he looks. In real life, I mean.” Because then I won’t have to picture his ridiculously attractive character speaking with his _voice_. “Also, I don’t know if I even feel that way about him.” The variables. 

“Right.” Aveline sounds distant; as if she’s listening, but not really processing what I’m saying. Believe me, this happens so often (with many different people) that I’ve become a master at detecting it.

“Anyway, that doesn’t matter. Are _you_ interested in someone?” I ask, because like hell I’m letting this potential piece of news slide.

“I…”

“You’re interested in someone?! Romantically?!” This is news. Holy shit, this is _news_.

Before I knew her, Aveline was married to a guy named Wesley. He was in the military or something. Anyway, Wesley got sick and passed away (we don’t talk about it much; not since Anders asked her a particularly offensive question about sexual roleplaying). Ever since then she’s been “married to her job.”

She always said she had no intention of seeing anyone ever again (much to Isabela’s bemusement, but that’s another story).

The point is: It’s been years.

“Shut it!”

“Oh my god, you are! Who is he?!”

“ _Shut it_ ,” Aveline snarls. “He’s _no one_. He’s a friend. A colleague. I sent him a present the other day.”

I squeal, like the 27-year-old man I am. “What did you send him?!”

More silence.

“I sent him a relief,” Aveline murmurs.

Uh. “A relief?”

“Yes…” She clears her throat. “A copper relief with marigolds sculpted onto it.”

“The flower?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Again.

“Uh, did he like it?”

“That’s the problem!” She yells so loudly that I have to pull my phone away from my ear for a second. “I don’t know if he did! He hasn’t responded.”

I don’t blame him. How does someone even react to a gift like that?

“Why did you even get him _copper marigolds_?” Of all the things…

“Metal is strong!” Aveline declares. “Copper ages well. And one time he got drunk at an office party and he said that my hair reminds him of marigolds. It’s the perfect gift! I thought long and hard about it! I had to ask Merrill to send it over for me.”

Typical. “Sabrae _would_ keep something like that in stock,” I say.

“I’m just going to keep working at it. I need to find out what he likes.”

“That’s the spirit. Tell me more about this guy!” I’m seriously so excited. I want to tell everyone I know about this.

“No! You’ll tell everyone all about him, and it’ll bite me in the arse later,” Aveline huffs.

“What?! That’s unfair! I’m a saint!” I retort. “Just ask Sebastian!”

“He only said that to make you feel better about yourself,” Aveline says. “We didn’t actually need that Vial of Holy Water.”

“He totally did. He thanked me and called me a saint!” Sebastian had a headset from the get-go, so I actually heard his voice before ever seeing him type. For what it’s worth, he has a thick Scottish accent. Merrill makes him say certain words sometimes. He always obliges.

“He was just being polite.” Aveline yawns. “Holy Water’s a junk item.”

“The idea of ‘junk items’ never made sense to me,” I say.

“Is that why you have a collection of Mabari Collars?”

“How did you know about that?!”

“You told us that they remind you of Miles.” Oh. It’s true, though. They do.

“We’re getting off-topic!” I announce. “I want to know more about your crush. I can help you with him.”

Aveline groans. “Spare me. You can’t even admit that you’re interested in Fenris.”

“I helped Zevran with Cousland!” I point out.

“I don’t know who either of those people are.”

“What? No! They’re my friends! Why does this keep happening?!” First Anders, now Aveline. This is unacceptable. Everyone in Wicked Grace should know all about my life. I’m going to address this in the future, I swear.

“Alright, alright. I believe you.” Aveline chuckles. “Fine. But you _can’t_ tell anyone, Hawke. I mean it.”

I reluctantly agree to these terms, even though I (admittedly) have a tendency to cave in under pressure and, therefore, make the worst secret-keeper imaginable.

I’ll try, though.

“His name is Donnic,” Aveline says. “He works down at the station with me. I’m his boss.”

“Kinky,” I say. I cannot actually think before I act.

“Okay. No. That’s all you’re getting,” Aveline says.

“Nooo!”

“‘Kinky?’ Please!” She huffs. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll _know_.”

Aveline’s scary when she wants to be. “I know! I’ve got it. Donnic. Copper marigolds.”

“I have some other ideas,” Aveline says. I _want_ her to run them by me before she pulls something disastrous again, but I know that’s not likely to happen, so…

“Let me know how that works out,” I say.

“Hm, maybe,” Aveline says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. 

I can’t believe she has a _crush_. Too cute. It’s too cute.

“Regardless, I think I’ll set up the bed frame on my own. Don’t want to send him the wrong message.”

Darn! “Do you need any more help with that?”

“No. I just have to attach the headboard and I think I found both the wooden _and_ metal things you mentioned,” Aveline replies. “Go deal with your own pathetic love life.”

“I don’t have a love life!” I exclaim. Miles stops chewing on his plastic bone toy and looks up at me quizzically.

“Hawke.” Aveline’s using her ‘patient’ voice. “Stop. Admit it: you have the hots for Fenris.”

“Never!”

“We _know_ you, Hawke.”

“Lies and slander!”

“You’re such a child,” Aveline says with a snort.

“I am not a child!” I say indignantly. “If you don’t need any more help with your _frame_ , I’m just going to train in the MMO.”

“By all means,” Aveline says. “Thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” I say. “Remember to keep me updated. Please.”

“We’ll see,” Aveline says. “I’ll log on later. Don’t make an ass out of yourself in front of Fenris.”

“I’ll try not to.”

She laughs and hangs up.

I sit up on my bed and watch Miles as he scampers out of the room, his chew toy in tow. I close my bedroom door behind him, because he keeps hopping in my bed and I _swear_ , I try to keep it a no-Miles zone, but it’s getting harder to tell him no. And whenever I give into his pitiful “please-let-me-stay-Garrett” looks, I unfailingly wake up at night with him sprawled out on top of me.

Miles is a _big_ dog.

I walk over to my computer, take a seat in front of it and log into the MMO. I scan Wicked Grace’s list of online members – Fenris, Sebastian and Merrill. I put my headset on.

“ – the entire thing? Really?”

“Yes, Merrill,” Sebastian says, with a light laugh. “I know the entirety of the Chant of Light. I had to memorize all of it before I joined my last guild.”

“All of it?!” Merrill’s amazed. “Recite some for me!”

“Ahh… I don’t think that’s necessary,” Sebastian says.

“You’re like an entirely new person,” Fenris says, dryly. And my chest gets tight at his _Fenris_ voice, even though it’s been a week since I heard it for the first time. “The Sebastian _I_ knew would follow me all around Kirkwall, reciting his beloved guild’s chant _constantly_.”

“I just wanted to recruit you!” Sebastian’s flustered. “I thought that if you heard the words which inspired us, you’d consider joining us!”

For two people who barely know each other, they’re kind of close.

I mean, I like Sebastian! I really do. But…

“Please! Please tell me some!” Merrill begs. “I want to hear it!”

Sebastian sighs. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just_.”

“Oh, I do like champions,” Merrill says. “Can you say it again?”

Sebastian repeats the verse and Merrill squeals with delight.

Chant of Light – the guild – is based on the actual, in-game Chant of Light. It's like one of the game's religious things.

It might be the actual religion of the people in the guild, too.

I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Good evening, Hawke,” Fenris says. I forgot that they get an alert when I log in… So, of course, his greeting takes me by surprise and I jump a little. _Pansy_.

“Oh, Garrett! Hello!” Merrill says. “Did you hear Sebastian? Isn’t he impressive?”

“Hey. Yeah! Very impressive,” I say. “Very… Scottish.”

Wow. Good job, Garrett.

Sebastian laughs.

“Exactly!” Merrill coos.

“Hawke.” Fenris, please stop saying my name, I will most definitely pass out because I am a huge pansy. A huge pansy with bright red petals, because Zevran always tells me that red’s my color. “I sent you a rough guideline for your stats and skills based on what you told me over the course of the week.”

He’s right – I have one unread private message. I open it up and it lists the stats I should focus on from here on out. Suggested skill points for each are listed, too, along with skill recommendations.

It’s written out very clearly. Hell, it’s clear enough that even someone like _me_ can follow it.

“Woah! Fenris!” I say. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to follow it,” he mumbles. “I just wanted to… Help.”

“I’ll follow it for sure! This is seriously so amazing!” He’s so smart. So, so smart. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s no problem,” Fenris says, and he sounds so _sincere_ that I literally almost tear up.

“I’m so excited to see Garrett being all strong,” Merrill says.

“You make quite an interesting warrior, Hawke,” Sebastian adds. “I’m looking forward to seeing how you progress, as well.”

I mumble out another _thank you_ ; I’m not used to people doting over me this much.

“Perhaps you’ll be strong enough to take on a solo quest,” Sebastian says. “One’s supposedly going to be added soon.”

I laugh nervously. “I don’t know about that…”

“We’ll see,” Fenris says. “There’s no rush.” He always sounds so calm and in-control.

“I want to level, though,” Merrill says. “I learn a new skill once I hit level 35. It’s called Hemorrhage!”

“I can’t believe that I’m in a guild with a blood mage,” Sebastian says. “Do you know they’re not allowed in Chant of Light?”

“What?!” Merrill yells into her mic. “Why not?!”

“I don’t know. I suppose they’re just overpowered,” Sebastian replies.

“That’s ridiculous!” Merrill huffs. “I am _not_ overpowered! I’m half-dead very often. Hawke says so all the time. Right, Hawke?”

“Right,” I say.

“Chant of Light isn’t worth my time, anyway!”

“Were you considering leaving us, Merrill?” I’m holding back laughter and _praying_ that she can’t tell.

“Well…” She sniffs. “No. But… It’s just so rude!”

Fenris clears his throat. “Chant of Light aside… We can do repeatable quests. You’ll level quickly.”

“That sounds like fun!” Merrill’s all chipper once again.

“I’ll join you guys,” I say, because I want to level and get to work on the _amazing_ guide which Fenris put together for me. I can’t believe he actually did it… He’s actually helping me. He actually sees something in me.

My body feels unnaturally cold.

I briefly wonder where Miles is, then remember that I cruelly locked him out of my room.

Sorry, Miles.

“Then I’ll tag along as well,” Sebastian says. “The more the merrier, right?”

We decide to do some repeatable quests in the Wounded Coast (I call it _Massive Head Trauma Bay_ and no one laughs, not even Merrill), so we all teleport over there.

Sebastian’s Andraste Belt mocks my worn-down level 25 armor (armor is expensive and I’m stingy). Sebastian doesn’t say anything, though. Because he’s polite. And Scottish.

Merrill does a little dance close to Fenris, which warms my heart, even though Fenris doesn’t really react to it.

We each grab the repeatable quest ( _Kill Bandits_ \- how exciting), then set off.

The beauty about repeatable quests is that you don’t need to even focus on the game to do them. Like… They’re _that_ easy (and boring). Usually we just chat through them.

As I slice one bandit in two distinct halves ( _ow_ ), I kind of wish that the rest of the guild was online. I don’t really know Sebastian, and I never really talk about personal things around Fenris. I want to, but… It’s hard.

“I’m so glad it’s the weekend. I’ve had such a rough week at the antique shop!” It’s not hard for Merrill, apparently. “We got a new shipment of mirrors. There’s this big one in particular – I love it, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen – but it arrived broken! Can you _believe_ that?”

“That sucks,” I say. “Can you return it?”

“No! I can’t,” Merrill sighs. “Hawke, you’re a carpenter. Do you know how to fix mirrors?”

“I don’t think I can fix the mirror itself…” Between Aveline and Merrill, today isn’t a good day for feeling good about my carpentry prowess.

“You’re a carpenter? That’s wonderful,” Sebastian says. “That’s one of the noblest professions one can be, in my mind.”

Uh. “Yeah! Yeah.” I stutter a bit and hate myself for it. “I fix chairs. Tables. Closets. I’m good with… Wood.”

“You’re good with wood,” Fenris echoes. There’s a hint of mischievousness in his voice. And that slight perverse tone?

It goes straight to my groin.

I hate myself even more and am _extremely_ thankful that Isabela isn’t online.

“Yep. Very good with wood,” I reply, and somehow my voice doesn’t squeak or do the high-pitch thing.

He laughs.

“I’ll try to fix it myself…” Merrill sighs as she impales two bandits _at once_ with her staff. “Anyway, what do you two do? Sebastian, Fenris?”

Merrill is turning out to be the craftiest member of Wicked Grace. I keep letting my guard down because I keep forgetting that she’s privy to the _Operation_.

“I’m studying theology,” Sebastian says. “I want to be involved in the Church… I lead sermons sometimes. I hope to be a priest of some sort.”

“Ooh, you’re double holy,” Merrill says. “Isabela would love to hear that.”

“I’m sure she would,” Sebastian says with a wry laugh.

“And… Fenris?”

I hold my breath a little. I feel like a threshold’s being crossed, here.

“I work at a library during the day,” Fenris says. “And I do some writing on the side… But not much.”

“Oh my god, I was just in a library.” Wow. I blurted that out without thinking. Also, I was there like… Almost two weeks ago. What the fuck, Garrett. “I fixed bookshelves! Lots of bookshelves.” And a door.

“I’ll keep that in mind if our shelves ever break,” Fenris says.

“Yeah, you should.” My heart’s _hammering_ against my chest. “We do house calls!”

Fenris laughs again. Making him laugh... It feels good. His laugh is so… Rough. Yet, somehow, it’s soft. I really like it. “And would I have to pay the air fare?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” I say.

“Hmm,” Fenris says.

 _Ergh_.

“Let me know too, Garrett,” Merril chirps. “I break things almost every day at work. Marethari gets so mad at me.”

“Will do, Merrill,” I say.

  


~

  


We do the repeatable quest until Merrill finally hits level 35 (I hit level 40, too).

Fenris still _amazes_ me, but Sebastian’s also incredibly skilled with his bow. Not only is his equipment flawless, but he can also play really, really well.

On top of that, I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s holding back.

Fenris probably is, too, for that matter.

Merrill is delightedly casting Hemorrhage on a group of bandits when Aveline logs in.

“I have an announcement!” She declares.

“Hello to you too, Vallen,” I say.

She ignores me.

“My apartment is _officially_ furnished.”

Chat becomes a general murmur of _congratulations_.

“Yes, and I thereby require you all to go on video chat. Right this instant.”

Video chat.

_Video chat._

My world is crashing down upon on me.

Everything becomes a blur.

_Video chat._

My Whisper chat window flashes.

  


[W] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : You said you’d feel better after seeing him, right?

[W] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : If you want to get involved in my love life, I sure as hell am getting involved in yours.

[W] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : You can thank me later.

[W] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Also, don’t pull the Miles card. I’ll expose you.

  


I can’t believe it…

I was wary of Isabela and Varric. As it turns out, I should’ve been wary of Merrill and Aveline. It’s always the ones you trust.

Merrill’s excitedly rambling about how much she loves video chatting.

Sebastian’s responding politely.

And Fenris is quiet.

For a second, I feel like he’ll leave. Hell, I’m wracking my brain for an excuse to leave… I can practically hear Isabela scoffing at me.

“You’re doing the call on the IM Client?” Fenris asks.

“Sure,” Aveline says. Evil, _evil_ Aveline.

“Hmm,” he says. “Should we log out, then?”

“You can for now,” she replies. “Were you four busy?”

“Not particularly,” he says.

“Okay, I’ll go online over there, then!” Merrill giggles. “Ooh, I’m so excited!” She logs off.

“I…” I want to use Miles as an excuse _so_ badly! Why, Aveline?! “I’ll head over there, too.”

I log off and hop onto the IM Client. My hands are unnaturally sweaty.

Oh my god. My _face_.

I yell a rushed “be right back” into my mic and tear off my headset. Then I leap away from my computer and speed over to my bathroom, almost running into the bathroom door in the process. I slam into the sink and look at myself in the mirror above it.

My hair is out of control. It’s too long. My eyes have very distinct dark circles under them…

And my lips are red from BBQ chip dust (I was binge-eating them before Aveline called). _Shit._ I rinse my face out with water.

Now my beard’s wet.

 _Great_.

“Great!” I exclaim at no one. “Fantastic!” I scrub at my face with a towel while I rush out of the bathroom and over to my dresser. I pull out a new shirt – a red plaid shirt that Zevran calls my _sexy shirt_ – and change into it.

As I spray some cologne on, I wonder if blow-drying my beard would be an acceptable course of action.

Then I realize that I just wasted that cologne.

Why am I becoming Date-Garrett for a video call?!

I trudge back over to my computer and take a deep breath. I’m cool. I’m calm. I’m collected.

I pull my headset back on and can already hear Merrill yelling. “I love your tattoos! I love them!”

I’m not cool.

I’m not calm.

I am _not_ collected.

I am none of those things.

“I’m back,” I mutter.

“Great. I’ll send you an invite,” Aveline says. She sounds smug. Too smug.

Now I know why she’s friends with Isabela.

I accept the invitation and take a deep breath. I’ll take it one video window at a time.

There’s Merrill. Adorable Merrill, with no facial tattoos or pointy ears, but with the same huge eyes and tiny build as her character…

Then there’s Aveline. Her ginger hair’s pulled back into a low ponytail. She’s covered in freckles and is wearing a tank top – not layers upon layers of armor.

They’re familiar to me. Familiar faces... My friends.

Two more.

I see Sebastian first. I know it’s Sebastian because he looks almost exactly like his character.

His hair isn’t slicked back, though. His skin is the same light-brown color and he’s not wearing Holy Armor –just a white shirt. He has a serene smile on his face… I don’t even want to think about the expression I’m making… But the look on his face calms me down. Just a little.

My eyes lock onto Fenris’, just as his lock onto mine.

He’s absolutely incredible.

He looks like his character, too. He has the same white hair, swooped to one side of his face. His shoulders are narrow – he looks _tiny_. And he has the same skin...

Except for the tattoos. His character _doesn’t_ have those.

The lines of white ink curve and trail down his chin and onto his neck… They disappear under the neckline of his plain black shirt.

And his eyes… They’re big. They’re dark green. They’re…

“Incredible,” I say, very much out loud.

“Isn’t it?” Aveline muses. “I worked hard at setting it all up. No thanks to _you_.”

I snap back to reality.

Aveline just saved my life.

She’s standing to the side of her webcam, showing off a cozy-looking bedroom behind her. Her bed is on a bedframe.

“Y-Yeah!” I stutter. “It looks incredible! I’m glad you worked it all out.”

“This is so exciting!” Merrill says. “Aveline’s new apartment _and_ our new members’ faces! You’re both so _cute_!”

Sebastian chuckles and blushes.

Fenris’ expression doesn’t change. He has this veneer of calm and I can’t see through it at all.

“I’m glad we can do this sort of thing,” Sebastian says. “I never had such personal interactions in Chant of Light.” 

“I need to text Isabela!” Merrill exclaims. “Ooh, Varric, too! And Anders! I want us all to see each other! I can’t believe that we all look like our characters. It’s Wicked Grace in the flesh.”

I laugh shakily. I feel like Fenris’ eyes are fixed on me… Judging me. I’m trying not to look at him directly. I know I’m blushing… A lot.

I’m glad I have a beard because at least that’ll mask the redness a little. I also wish that I didn’t lock Miles out of my room earlier. Dogs are generally good icebreakers.

“I like your shirt, Garrett,” Merrill says, politely. “It looks good on you. I’m just in my pajamas.”

“Thanks,” I say. My voice doesn’t sound like it’s mine. “That’s okay. I should change, probably.”

My hands are firmly planted at my sides. I can’t stop sweating and my legs are shaking.

I feel like an awkward teenager. _Again_.

Merrill’s saying something while she texts, but I can’t hear distinct words anymore…

I was _barely_ over the voice thing. And now… He’s here.

I glance at him. He has a smile on his face – it’s small; almost shy. He’s not looking at me.

There’s a lump in my throat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to die like this.

 _Seeing him in person was supposed to calm me down_!

But… I shouldn’t run away. I know I shouldn’t. Elevated heart rate aside, I’m going to stick this through…

That’s what I’m thinking, but then Aerosmith’s _I Don’t Want to Miss A Thing_ starts blaring from my bed at an unholy volume.

In this moment, I immensely regret my ringtone choices.

“Shit! Uh, I’ll be right back!” Again. I take my headset off and rush over there; I answer the call before the chorus hits. “H-Hello?!”

“Garrett, dear?”

Oh my god. It’s my _mother_.

“Is this a bad time?”

Yes! Very bad time.

“I, uh – No! Not really! What’s wrong?” I walk out of my webcam’s range.

“I forgot my purse at the shop,” she says. “Could you pick it up for me and bring it over here?”

No! I am _not_ giving Isabela another excuse to call me a pansy! “Can’t Carver get it for you?”

“He’s visiting a friend for the weekend.” Mother sighs. “I suppose I could walk down there, but my back’s been acting up…”

I glance at my computer.

“What about Bethany?”

“I’d feel bad asking her to,” she says. “I think she’s coming down with a cold.”

“Okay.” I exhale. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Could you pick up some food for us, too?”

Really, Mother? Really?

“I didn’t have time to cook today. There was so much paperwork! Oh, you can stay and eat with us, if you’d like. You hardly ever come home anymore.”

“I don’t really live there anymore, Mom,” I say, but I can’t help but smile.

“I know! I’m allowed to miss my baby boy!”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon.”

I can’t believe it. The one time I was ready… 

My mother thanks me again and we both hang up. I slink back over to my computer and put my headset back on.

“– it’s a real candle! I swear!” I know that Merrill’s talking about _Man Town_. I just know she is.

Fenris’ hand is over his mouth; his shoulders are shaking with laughter. My lips feel so dry.

“It may be real, but I certainly don’t want it,” Aveline says. “Oh, Hawke. You’re finally back.”

“Isabela can’t come online. She’s stuck at work,” Merrill states.

“Damn. That’s okay. I… Gotta go.”

Aveline glares at me.

“I’m really sorry! It’s my mother!” I really _am_ a teenager again. “She left her purse at the shop and now she wants me to bring her _food_.”

“Ooh, Mother Hawke!” Merrill’s delighted. “I want to meet her someday.”

“Don’t keep her waiting,” Fenris says. For a second, I feel like he’s making fun of me, but I don’t think he is.

_The way the light from his computer reflects off his white hair…_

“She’s a mess,” I squeak.

“It must run in the family,” Aveline says, casually.

We all laugh.

“I might log back in,” I say. “If she doesn’t keep me there for long. But… She probably will… So…” I clear my throat. “It was nice seeing your apartment, Aveline. And… It’s great to see your faces, Sebastian, Fenris!” My voice cracks just as I say Fenris’ name.

I’m going to crawl into a Wi-Fi-less cave and live the rest of my days out in it.

“It was good to see you, too, Hawke,” Sebastian says.

Fenris smiles and nods and, god, he’s so… Wolf-like.

“Bye, Garrett! I’ll text you later!” Merrill says.

I give them one last wave before I log out of the messaging client.

Then I tip my head back and let out a frustrated groan that is suspiciously Anders-like in nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual: thank you mary aka snoot for being a SUPERB beta (and for staring at various IKEA instruction manuals with me).


	8. Chapter 8

“Thank you so much, darling!”

Mother envelops me in a hug (even though I _tower_ over her - she’s strong, okay?) and kisses my cheek as she grabs her purse from my hand.

“No problem,” I grunt. I have a plastic bag filled with Styrofoam containers in my other hand. Inside said containers are various fast food items from _Old Barlin’s_.

Barlin himself is kind of sweaty but he likes to come out to meet the guests. His restaurant – a charming yet kind of seedy sports bar, with a weirdly diverse menu – was en route. I thought about dropping by Bodahn’s family restaurant, but that would require more driving and Mother isn’t exactly the most patient person in the world.

Bethany walks over to me, too. She’s in pajamas which are way too big for her (I’m 90% sure that shirt once belonged to me) and she takes the plastic bag with a lazy smile.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.

“Shitty,” she replies. “But I’ll take medicine and I’m sure I’ll feel better…”

Mother frets. “Let me take that, dear,” she says as she takes the plastic bag from her. “I’ll set food out for you two… And I’ll make tea for you afterwards, Bethy.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

It might sound kind of silly, but… Hawkes take colds seriously. Even if they’re small ones which last for, like, a day. Stuff can go wrong quickly. Dad proved that for us.

But I don’t want to think about that. So I shove that thought back into my mind. Far, far away.

And I reach out and mess up Bethany’s hair.

“Hey!” She squawks.

We shuffle into the living room and Bethany flops down onto a couch. A quilt is thrown over it – I assume she was wrapped up in it before. There’s a box of tissues on an end table next to the couch, along with a glass of water.

“I feel like a slug,” she states. “I’m glad you came over. Mom was getting _way_ too fussy.”

“Yeah, she does that,” I say as I take a seat next to her.

“What were you up to?” Bethany squints at me. “Oh my god, why are you Date-Garrett?!”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Except,” she sits up, “I totally do. Spill the details!”

“There are no details!”

“Drop the act! It’s getting old!” She punches me on the shoulder. _Hard_.

I yelp.

“Don’t hit your brother, Bethany!” Mother calls from the kitchen.

My phone vibrates.

 

 **Isabela** (8:11pm):  
-_-

 

 _Definitely_ ignoring that.

“Is that your secret serial killer boyfriend?” Bethany asks. “Hand your phone over. Right now!”

“It’s not! It’s Isabela!” I hand the phone over to her so she can inspect it. “She’s mad at me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a coward.”

“I’m mad at you for that reason, too.” Bethany gives the phone back to me.

“What’s happening?” Mother walks into the room carrying two plates of spaghetti. She hands one to Bethany, then one to me.

“Garrett has a _boyfriend_ ,” Bethany says.

“Are you twelve?!” I snap.

“You have a boyfriend?!” Mother gasps. “Who is he?! When can I meet him?” She dashes back into the kitchen and returns with her plate of spaghetti at an alarmingly quick speed.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I say. “Everyone wants me to date him. I barely know him.”

“Is he cute?” Mom sits on the coffee table in front of us and balances her plate on her lap. She stares at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to answer and no words come out.

I stuff my face with spaghetti as Bethany gives me a critical look.

I nod (because my mouth’s full – I am in no way _embarrassed_ to reveal that Fenris is “cute”; that would be pansy-like and my track record proves that I am _not_ one of those).

“Cuter than the last one you had, I’m sure.” Mother picks at her food. “Is he blond? You have a thing for blonds.”

“Why do you – he’s not blond, no!” I also don’t have a thing for blonds. My _one_ boyfriend was blond… “He has white hair.”

Mother raises an eyebrow. “And just how old is this man?”

“He’s not old!” I don’t actually know how old he is… “He’s my age!” I think.

“People dye their hair all the time now, Mom.” Bethany blows her nose. “It’s fashionable.”

Fashionable Fenris.

Something about that makes me want to laugh.

My phone vibrates. I am way too enamored with this spaghetti to check it, so I put it on silent.

“Did you meet him on the Web?” Mother asks.

“Yes, I met him on the Web,” I say.

“Is he a spider?” Bethany asks. I shove her lightly and she laughs so hard that she snorts.

“Are you sure he’s real?” Mother eats more spaghetti. “I’ve heard so many stories…”

“He’s real,” I say. “I’ve heard him talk a million times and I saw him during a video call tonight.”

“Oh my gosh! Is that why you’re Date-Garrett?!” Bethany cackles.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?” I poke her.

She makes a fake coughing sound which evolves into real coughing. She flails around for her water and glugs it down.

“Anyway…” I cram more spaghetti in my mouth and I’m pretty sure I have marinara sauce in my beard. “He’s just a friend.” A really, really attractive, intelligent friend who my friends think I’m completely in love with, to the point where they are all conspiring to bring the two of us together.

Mother doesn’t need to know that last part.

That _Operation: Hard in Hightown_ part… With all its phases.

When will it end?!

“Well, I hope it works out,” Mother says. “It’s been such a long time since any of my babies brought _anyone_ home to see me.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Bethany groans. “You can’t rush that stuff.”

“Oh, right, so _now_ you’re on my side?!” I say.

“I just don’t want to be forgotten!” Mother exclaims. “I’d like to have an active role in your romantic conquests.”

Yeah, definitely never telling her about the Operation. It seems like something right up her alley. I can see it now – Isabela and Mother, bonding over coffee… Plotting my romantic demise.

“We’ll keep you updated,” Bethany says. “Right, Gare?”

“Right,” I say. I mean… If Fenris and I _do_ start dating, I’d definitely tell her… So… “What about Carver, though? Who’s he visiting?”

“His friend… That Theirin boy. Alan?”

“Alistair, Mom,” Bethany corrects her.

“Right! Alistair. Lovely boy.” Mother sighs. “He reminds me of you, Garrett.”

“You’re completely wrong,” I say. Alistair is way less disillusioned about the world. He’s also super perky. He works at _Duncan’s_ and he always reads the specials out in different voices.

His Yoda impression is flawless.

_The pumpkin spice latte, you will try._

“Speaking of Alistair…” Bethany swallows the last of her spaghetti (she’s a fast eater). “I think I want to apply for a job at _Duncan’s_.”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Mother’s excited already. “Ooh, Garrett, doesn’t Zevran’s boyfriend work there?!”

“Cousland? Yep,” I nod. Cousland… He heard me freaking out about Fenris’ voice and acted as if it was nothing. I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since.

“It’s such a lovely place,” Mother says wistfully. “Maybe Carver can work there part-time, too. Though we do need him at the shop…”

“He spends a lot of time just sitting around bugging me,” Bethany states. “He can work at both places! They’re, like, five minutes away from each other.”

“We can talk it over once he’s back,” Mother says. “Do you want to work there, too, Garrett?”

“Oh, god. No. Definitely not.” I raise my hands up defensively. “I’m busy enough with the carpentry. Also, I’m bad with caffeine. After the interview, you have to drink the strongest coffee the store has. I’d die.”

“Are you serious?!”

“I’m totally serious!” Zevran told me all about it. “Cousland didn’t even blink while he drank it. That’s how they knew he’d be perfect for the job. The two other guys with him _puked_.”

“ _Gross_.” Bethany cackles. “I’m sure I could do it, though. I’m good with that stuff.”

“You inherited your father’s reaction to caffeine, Garrett,” Mother says with a warm smile. “Bethy, on the other hand? She’s a coffee girl just like her mother.”

Bethany beams up at her.

We keep chatting about miscellaneous things – Mother’s paintings. Bethany’s woodcarvings. Apparently, they might run collaborate on a few projects, just like Mother and Father used to.

Dad would sculpt these _huge_ works of art. _Huge_. They were usually super abstract, too. And Mom? She’d paint them. They were a dynamic duo.

Mom’s family didn’t want her pursuing art (or to end up marrying Dad, for that matter), but she was determined. She left everything behind for my Dad…

I don’t think I respect anyone more than I respect her.

While Mother makes us cups of her special Hawke Family Tea, Bethany and I curl up under the quilt and watch some show about a ton of different people coming together to make a parks department work. It’s apparently Bethany’s favorite.

When I tell her that the concept reminds me of a guild (you know – lots of people coming together to make the guild work), she punches me (again). 

Mother brings us the tea and ends up staying with us; she asks a million questions about some blonde lady (who becomes her favorite character almost instantly).

And that’s pretty much how I spend my Friday night.

Wrapped up under a familiar quilt and drinking familiar tea, next to my mother and sister (and said sister’s small mountain of used Kleenexes).

And, honestly?

It’s a pretty damn good night.  

 

~

 

I end up spending the night (I passed out on the couch; Mother and Bethany just _left_ me there). I wake up around six in the morning; my body’s stiff and contorted and the house is dark and quiet.

I fumble around and find my phone – 7 missed calls. 12 unread text messages.

I don’t look forward to this. With a sigh, I swipe at the lock screen and go into Missed Calls first.

 

 **Anders** – 8:56pm

 **Isabela** – 9:31pm

 **Isabela** – 9:33pm

 **Varric** – 9:34pm

 **Isabela** – 9:36pm

[ **Unknown Number** ] – 10:11pm

 **Aveline** – 10:20pm

 

Apparently I was in high demand. “Jeez, Isabela.” Anders was probably calling me for some inane reason… More Google searches, maybe. Varric was likely going to harass me about Fenris and nag me for friendfiction material.

I check the Unknown Number and can’t recognize it at all. Whatever.

And, finally, there’s Aveline. She either wanted to pester me about my sudden vanishing act, or something in her apartment broke. (I really hope her bed frame’s okay.)

Now for the onslaught of texts…

 

 **Isabela** (8:14pm):  
p

 **Isabela** (8:14pm):  
a

 **Isabela** (8:14pm):  
n

 **Isabela** (8:15pm):  
s

 **Isabela** (8:15pm):  
y

 

Incredibly unsurprising and completely untrue.

 

 **Garrett** (6:11am):  
it wasn’t my fault this time!!!! Bethany was sick.

 

Hell yeah, I’ll play the Bethany card. That’ll distract her.

 

 **Anders** (8:58pm):  
Did you actually have to meet your mother, or was that just an alarmingly awful excuse?  
I need to know. For science.

 

I take a quick picture of myself, glaring (comically, but glaring nonetheless), and send it to him.

 

 **Garrett** (6:12am):  
I did have to meet her actually!!!  
P.S. Your science sux!!!!

 

I move on to the rest of the messages.

 

 **Varric** (9:37pm):  
I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but… I’ll say it again.  
You’re welcome. ;)

 

I turn bright red. _Dammit_. I don’t even bother with replying.

 

 **[ Unknown Number ]** (10:15pm):  
This is Sebastian, Garrett. :-)  
Varric gave me your number. I hope that’s okay!

 

He uses Merrill-esque emoticons and that makes me smile, so it’s more than okay. I add his number to my Contact list, then reply:

 

 **Garrett** (6:14am):  
Yeah, thats fine! Dw about it!

 

I head back to the main message screen.

 

 **Merrill** (10:33pm):  
Garrett,  
Fenris is VERY handsome. :^D  
and! He likes your baerd!! ;^D  
Sebastian is handsome too but Fenris said he likes your beard.  
I asked him but I didn’t ask Sebastian. Should I have? I don’t think it matters as much :^O  
He probably likes your beard, too. I know I do. :^)

 

The beard! I love my beard. Hearing that other people love my beard? It’s the best thing. I grin and I touch my beard in appreciation and, ew, yeah, that’s definitely dried marinara sauce.

 _Nasty_.

Well, Fenris didn't see marinara-sauce-beard. He saw Garrett-Beard. That’s what matters.

 

 **Aveline** (10:26pm):  
I tried, Hawke. You can’t say I didn’t try.

 

Aveline Vallen’s attempt at “wingmaning,” bested by none other than Leandra Hawke, my darling mother.

 

 **Aveline** (10:31pm):  
My bed frame just broke.  
This is somehow your fault.

 

Wow. It was a rough night for her.

 

 **Garrett** (6:17am):  
It was my mother, I SWEAR. we even ate spaghetti. Theres sauce in my beard.  
I’d take a pic to show you, but thats kinda gross.  
Also, sorry about your bed. Maybe this is a sign that u SHOULD invite donnic over. Lol.

 

And, finally…

 

 **Varric** (11:34pm):  
The Choir Boy’s in on the Operation. Thought I’d give you a heads up.  
That’s what friends are for, right? :) 

 

Choir Boy…? Oh, Sebastian. _Dammit!_ That’s why he has my number. At least he’s a priest-in-training. What’s the worst he could do?

 

 **Garrett** (6:17am):  
Gj, getting a priest involved in ur heretical plans. Im sure u feel very accomplished rn, you heathen.

 

A “new message” alert appears; it surprises me and I nearly drop the phone.

 

 **Varric** (6:18am):  
What can I say? I wanted some holy intervention.  
From what I’ve seen, you need it. Desperately. ;)

 

My friends are assholes.

I lie back on the couch and stare at my phone.  

Fenris doesn’t have my number. It feels weird. I should really give him my number… I wonder if he even has a cellphone. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t.

He’s a little weird… But I like that.

He’s weird, and smart, and… Really, really handsome.

Right now, I’m stranded in my Mother’s house. It’s an unholy hour of the morning (anything earlier than 10a.m. is unholy), and I have marinara sauce in my beard.

No one’s awake yet… I’ll feel bad if I just _left_.

So…

I get up. I go to the bathroom so that I can wash my beard out in the sink (we already established that I’m a mess).

And while I’m scrubbing at it, I make a decision.

I’m going to make some goddamn pancakes.

  

~

 

“What the _fuck_ happened here,” Bethany says. It’s a statement, not a question.  

She’s still in her pajamas and her eyes are barely open. Her cheek has some dried drool on it.

“I made breakfast!” I reply cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”

“I just woke up.” She blinks a few times.

“Sorry, let me rephrase. Are you still a mucus monster?” I walk up to her with a paper towel and scrub the drool off. She grimaces.

“I feel better. I think.” She swats my hand away. “The kitchen’s covered in pancake batter. _You’re_ covered in pancake batter. There’s some in your beard.”

“No! Not again!” It’s not a good day for my beard.

“You’ll get more in it. Anyway, Mom’s gonna freak out if you don’t clean up.”

“I’m going to clean up after!” I head back to the frying pan so that I can flip the in-progress-pancake over with Mother’s bright pink spatula.

“Nice apron, by the way,” Bethany calls from the kitchen table.

It’s Mother’s. It’s also bright pink and trimmed with white frills. I’m pretty sure that Wynne got it for her.

“Thank you,” I say, doing a little curtsy. She laughs.

She grabs a pancake and chatters about an art project she wants to do (it involves using Miles as a model; I support it enthusiastically) while I make a small tower of pancakes.

By the time Mother’s downstairs, the kitchen’s mostly cleaned up, though I still have batter in my beard. Bethany and I are enthusiastically tearing through the pancake tower.

After fussing over Bethany for a while, Mother stares at the pancake tower and then at me. As she serves herself (Bethany and I are drenching ours in syrup – I have an incredibly unhealthy amount of butter on mine, too), she smiles.

“You know,” she says, “your father would always do this incredibly annoying thing. He’d make breakfast for dinner at least twice a month.”

“I love breakfast for dinner!” I say that way louder than I mean to.

Like caffeine, sugar has quite an effect on me.

She laughs and shakes her head. “He’d do it behind my back, too.” She sighs and takes a bite. “And I’d get so angry, but wouldn’t want to waste the food.”

Bethany grins. “As if we have to worry about wasting food. I mean, if Carver was here, he’d eat all of it in one bite.”

“As if you’re any better,” I say. She’s single-handedly torn through at least half of the pancake tower.

“Shut up, Batter-Beard,” she snaps.

I hang out with them for a while, then take a shower in what used to be my bathroom (it’s now just a guest one).

As I leave, Mother hugs me and tells me to go easy on the gaming.

“And tell your new friend hello for me,” she adds.

I feel like I have parental approval or something. It’s… Weird. I haven’t even given _myself_ approval yet.

But I nod anyway and tell her I will.

“Look after Bethany,” I say. She’s still in her pajamas and is currently in front of the television, watching a cartoon cat chase after a small mouse. “Better” or not, she keeps sneezing, so she’ll probably have another low-energy day.

“Of course!” Mother smiles.

I hop back into my car and start blasting Lady Gaga (no one will ever know – no one) as I drive off.

  

~

 

By the time I’m home, it’s still too early to go online.

So… I put some food out for Miles (I fed him before going to Mother’s last night, of course), change into a new outfit, and clean.

I clean _everything_.

I clean the living room. I clean the kitchen. I clean the bathroom.

I’m cleaning my bedroom when I hear vague Aerosmith-esque sounds coming from downstairs – meaning that my phone’s ringing. I sprint over to it.

“Hello?” I answer it without checking the Caller ID.

“Garrett! Kitten!” Isabela wails. “I haven’t talked to you in a thousand years!”

It’s been around four days, which is basically synonymous with a thousand years for her.

“You left me mean text messages!” I kneel down and scratch Miles on his head. He’s been following me around the house – I think he was expecting me to come home last night. Oops.

“Oh. Sorry. It was a rough night. I was stuck at work, you know. You _are_ a coward, though.” She sniffles. “I’m so pissed. I couldn’t go online, so I still don’t know how Fenris looks…  I don’t know how Sebastian looks, either! And he’s a fucking _priest_!” She lets out a frustrated growl.

“He’s in training for it or something, actually,” I say. “He studies theology.”

“Stop pissing on all my fun,” Isabela retorts. “Well?  Tell me about him.”

“Who? Sebastian?”

“You _know_ who, kitten.”

I sit on the floor. Miles lies down across my lap and breathes heavily.

“I’m sure Merrill’s told you _all_ about him.” Or Varric, for that matter.

 “All Merrill told me was that he has tattoos. Lots of them,” Isabela says.

“Yes. That’s true. He has lots of tattoos.” I take a deep breath. “White ink tattoos.”

“Are they sexy?”

I ignore her. “He has brown skin and green eyes.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Dammit, Isabela. “He’s very fashionable. His hair’s white.”

“Hawke, you’re impossible,” Isabela says. “You realized that you have _six_ people trying to hook you up with this man, right?”

I pout. “I didn’t ask for help!”

“Exactly,” Isabela says. “Hey, is Zevran in on this, too?”

“Uh. He said he’d help me look presentable if we ever meet in real life,” I say.

“Thank fuck.”

“Thanks, Isabela!” Everyone needs to stop pressuring me. “For the record, my Mom wants to meet him, too.”

Isabela groans. “Hawke, just do us all a favor and admit that you totally want to ravish him senseless. I mean, really?! Your _Mother_.”

“Mom’s really conniving!”

“That’s not the point. Listen – there’s Zevran and your _Mother_ and, hell, knowing her, Bethany, too. Add Wicked Grace to that _sans_ Fenris and that’s _nine_ people! Nine whole people who can tell how head-over-heels you are for Fenris.” She’s talking _really_ fast. “So how about you just admit it to _yourself_ so we can actually make some real progress here?”

“We’ve been making progress,” I say, warily.

“At a depressingly slow speed,” Isabela retorts. “And I’m quite certain that it’s _entirely_ your fault.”

“It’s just fucking _difficult_ , okay?!” I don’t mean to yell, but I do it without thinking. Miles goes rigid.

And there’s silence.

“Sorry. It’s just…” I sigh. Miles calms down. “It’s been forever since I dated anyone, okay? And you know how stuff went with –”

“Listen, that’s in the past,” Isabela says, quickly. But her voice is a lot gentler. “Ugh. Look, I don’t mean to pressure you. But… We know you, kitten! We know you overthink things. Sure, _Operation: Hard in_ _Hightown_ might’ve started off as a bit of a joke, but it’s come so far!”

We’re, like… several phases in.

“We adore you. And we think Fenris is a good guy! He laughs at your awful jokes and isn’t completely weirded out by your incredible awkwardness. So just give it a shot! What’s the worst that could happen? I mean, you’re both warriors! You slay dragons together! That’s sexy as _fuck_.”

Also true.

Teenaged-Garrett’s Number One Fantasy was _literally_ being able to slay dragons with a hot guy.

But I’m just so tired.

“Just give me some time,” I say. “I do like him. But… I don’t know about dating him. I barely know him. Like… I know MMO-Fenris. But… Real life Fenris is…”

“A big sexy mystery.”

“Yeah.”

“Aha!” Isabela screeches. “You’ve admitted it - he’s sexy. I need to see him!” In her enthusiasm, she slams something down. “Ow!”

I start laughing. “Yeah. He’s… Sexy.” I laugh even harder and I’m not sure why. “He’s _fucking_ sexy.”

Sexy is a hilarious word.

I never say that word.

“You’re killing me here, kitten.”

“His voice is too much for me. Listen, once, I had to,” I’m wheezing, “I had to take a cold shower. You were joking about it before, but… I actually had to leave to take a cold shower. He was just teaching me some skill rotations, and I… I had to leave. I had to leave,” I’m gasping for air, I’m laughing too hard, “to take a cold shower. And to deal… With things.”

“I knew it!” Isabela yells. “I _knew_ it!”

I laugh even harder. “I’m surprised I didn’t mess anything up last night,” I admit. My eyes are watering from laughing. “I was running on adrenaline.”

“Mother Hawke may have saved her little kitten,” Isabela says coyly. “What’s that called again? _Mother’s intuition_?”

“Something like that,” I mumble.

She laughs. “Anyway, we should have a group video call tonight.”

“I honestly don’t think I could take that,” I say. Miles is getting heavy, but he has no intention of moving.

“I think you can. Be a big boy!” Isabela coos. “Aveline had guts, putting you on the spot like that. You can tell she’s new to this whole _matchmaking_ thing.”

Oh my god, she knows Aveline did it.

Oh my god, she doesn’t know about Donnic!

She doesn’t know that the video call was partially an act of vengeance.

 _That’s a secret, Garrett. Don’t you dare tell Isabela! Aveline_ will _destroy you!_

“Fine! I’ll do it. But don’t try anything,” I say. “I _admitted_ that I like him. But that’s it! I don’t know if I want to date him yet, okay?!”

“Oh, kitten…” Isabela cackles. “That’s why we’re here.”

 

~

 

I’m in front of my computer.

I have seven (yes, seven) bags of chips piled up next to it – out of my webcam’s range, but within reach.

Miles is downstairs, preoccupied with a chew toy. I think he’s still mad at me for abandoning him last night (he seems to have accepted that I’m back home now, so he’s stopped following me and is back to his sassy self). I left my bedroom door open, just in case he wants to reconcile.

When I turn my computer on, I’ll have to face Fenris.

And I’m anxious. Really, really, _really_ anxious.

But at least Wicked Grace will be there for me.

My saviors.

Honestly, my talk with Isabela made me feel better. Letting stuff out is _good_ , and it’s not as if I really committed to anything.

I just admitted that I like him.

It’s no surprise at all, since I’m so damn awkward about it.

I mean, I told her that I think he’s sexy – which is true! But… He’s so much more than that. He’s…

Fuck, I can’t even say it.

I stare at my computer. My reflection stares back at me.

My phone vibrates.

 

 **Anders** (4:31pm):  
Is that sauce in your beard?

 

Nice, that reply to my glorious selfie was only _ten_ _hours_ late.

 

 **Garrett** (4:31pm):  
Definitely not. r u online????

 

 **Anders** (4:32pm):  
It’s totally sauce in your beard. That’s gross, Garrett. I’m so ashamed.  
And no. I’m not. I’m at work right now.

 

Fun fact: I’ve known Anders for literal _years_ and I still have no idea where the fuck he works. Every time I ask him, he just treats it like a joke… So I got tired of asking him.

We all kind of just accept that he might be working at an office… Or, you know, be involved in some wacky Black Market stuff.

…Now that I think about it, a lot of my friends _are_ suspicious. Zevran might be onto something.

 

 **Garrett** (4:32pm):  
We’re having a group call!!!! Have u seen fenris and/or sebastian yet? Like their faces

 

 **Anders** (4:32pm):  
Yeah, I saw them last night.  
Fenris looks like a wild dog and Sebastian’s hair offends me. Lmao.

 

I roll my eyes.

A wild dog… He’s wolfish! It’s cool!

And Sebastian’s hair is just fine.

 

 **Garrett** (4:32pm):  
Can u please be serious!!!

 

 **Anders** (4:32pm):  
I’m always serious.  
Haha, just kidding.

 

It’s hopeless.

 

 **Garrett** (4:32pm):  
WHATEVER  
Just sign in at some point pls I need moral support thnx

 

 **Anders** (4:32pm):  
I don’t know. Work’s busy.  
I’ll try to, I guess.  
P.S. Stop stalling; I can tell that you’re stalling and it’s more than a little pathetic.

 

I grumble incoherently and put my phone down next to my chip mountain.

Then, I reach over to the power button on my computer and press it.

I open the first of the seven chip bags as the IM Client loads.

I get an invite from Isabela before the first chip’s even in my mouth. I take a deep breath and accept it.

The screen loads up.

First I see Merrill. Then I see Isabela… Varric… Sebastian.

“Hello, Garrett!” Merrill does a little wave. “How are you? How was your mother?”

“My -- Wha?” Nice job. Strong start. “Oh, Mom? Mom’s fine! I had to buy her spaghetti. And… I passed out on her couch.” I almost say that I got marinara sauce in my beard; I _barely_ stop myself in time.

“How’s Bethany?!” Isabela sounds desperate. “I didn’t read your text before I called you earlier! Is she okay?! Still sick?”

“She’s fine,” I say. “She ate around a million pancakes this morning.”

“Who’s Bethany?” Sebastian asks.

“My sister. Ah, younger sister,” I say.

Fenris raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

“Ah. Uh. Right. Hey guys!” I say… Awkwardly. I give them a wave, too… Also awkwardly.

“Delayed reaction much, Hawke?” Varric grins. He’s looking down at something – I think he’s texting.

“I’m sorry!” I say. I cram some chips in my mouth, and then realize just how unattractive that must be.

I’m as out of control as ever.

Isabela’s giggling. A lot.

“Remember what I said about Hawke being a nervous eater, Fenris?” Varric asks.

Fenris covers his mouth, but his shoulders shake a bit, so I know he’s laughing. “I do.”

Varric is an evil man.

“Anyway, I hate to greet and run,” Varric says. “But duty calls.”

“Where are you going, Varric?” Merrill’s voice sounds weirdly stiff.

“My _dearest_ older brother wants help with something.” Varric rolls his eyes. “You know how Bartrand is.”

“Your brother’s just _so_ pleasant,” Isabela says. She’s looking at me really knowingly and it’s spooking me. “Anyway, adieu, Varric!”

“Adieu, my dear lady! And bye to the rest of you.”

“Hey!” Merrill pretends to be offended.

Varric laughs and logs out.

“I’m so glad that I didn’t have to work today,” Isabela says. “I’m so _bad_ at my job… And I keep unknowingly stealing office supplies.”

“Is stealing okay if you tell a priest about it?” Merrill asks. “Because technically you just told Sebastian.”

“It doesn’t exactly work that way,” Sebastian says, slowly. “But it’s good to get the guilt off your chest…?”

“Ooh, yes. I love getting things off my chest,” Isabela says with a wink.

“Ah…” Sebastian looks at something past his monitor. “Oh… Right. I’m coming,” he says, to whatever he’s looking at. “My apologies, everyone.” He focuses back on us. “I have to go help my flatmate with something.”

“Aw! But I’ve barely been able to see your priestly face!” Isabela exclaims.

“I’m sorry. Like Varric said... Duty calls.” Sebastian smiles.

Merrill fidgets.

“Oh, fine. I’ll let you go… But only because your dimples are simply _heavenly_.” Isabela wiggles her eyebrows. “…Ha! Do you see what I did there? They’re heavenly because you’re a priest!” She guffaws.

“Yes. Heavenly. That’s hilarious,” Sebastian says. “Well, I’m off! I hope we can talk properly soon. Once again, my deepest apologies.”

“Goodbye, Sebastian!” Merrill calls out.

“See you later,” Fenris says.

He logs out.

“I wonder if Aveline will come online. I texted her, but she never replies to my texts,” Isabela muses.

“Probably because they have a tendency to be really dirty. And mean.”

“Only for you, kitten.” Isabela smirks.  “Oh! What about Anders?”

Fenris grimaces for a second. By the time I blink, his face is back to normal.

I let out a bark of laughter which is totally not sexy.

But… His face!

He’s smiling at me now… It’s the barely-there-but-definitely-there smile. The Fenris smile.

_Urgh._

“Anders is stuck at work,” I say.

“Oh my goodness! Work!” Merrill suddenly exclaims. She clutches her face. “I forgot I have to go work on the mirror at… Work! You know, the one that shattered!”

Isabela squints at her. “Really, Merrill? Really? It’s a Saturday evening and you want to go work on a _mirror_.”

“I-I’m very enthusiastic about this mirror!” Merrill insists. “I’m sorry. Isabela, Fenris, Garrett, I will talk to you later!” She stares at us and she looks like a deer in the headlights. “Erm…”

“Bye, Daisy,” Isabela says; she shakes her head and laughs.

“Goodbye?” Fenris says, except it sounds more like a question.

“See you, Merrill!” I say… Because I know better than to question her weird hobbies…

Except…

Wait.

They were all here until _I_ got here.

Then Varric left, followed by Sebastian… And Merrill, too.

Which means…

“Oh, shit!” Isabela yells. There’s the sound of shattering glass. “Fuck! I dropped my bloody rum!”

Fenris looks appropriately concerned.

I, however, am visibly furious.

Because I can see what they’re doing. I can see it all too clearly.

They’re doing the _thing_. You know, when you invite the person you like out, and you tell them, _Oh, hey, we’ll go with a bunch of friends! It’ll be fun!_ But then, of course, your friends don’t show up.

They don’t show up because they never planned on _coming_.

Wicked Grace is tricking me into a solo-video chat.

They each came up with their own excuses and then they implemented them.

My phone vibrates. Isabela’s frantically saying stuff, and Fenris is calmly replying.

 

 **Varric** (4:45pm):  
We believe in you, Hawkey.  
Don’t fuck this up.

 

Holy shit.

“Fuck this, I’m not staying online _sober_. I’m going to run to the liquor store, but I’ll be back.” Isabela smiles. “Sorry, boys! Looks like it’ll just be the two of you.”

I’m flying solo.

This is an actual thing which is happening… This is my punishment for running away.

“It’s fine,” Fenris says.

Meanwhile, my throat has completely closed and I’m sure that I’m making a very _unique_ expression at the screen.

“You alright, kitten?” Isabela asks.

“I’m fine,” I manage to say. “I’m just… The glass breaking... I thought Miles broke something downstairs for a sec.” Okay, I’m not going to lie, that was some good quick thinking on my part.

Fenris frowns – but, once again, it happens so damn _quickly_ that I can’t tell if it actually happened. How does he do that?!

“Miles is fine, you big lug,” Isabela croons. “Anyhoo, I hope you two get to know each other. I forbid you from talking about the MMO! It’s ‘getting-to-know-you’ time, alright?” She winks.

She’s evil.

They’re all evil!

“Noted,” Fenris says, smugly.

I nod, because I can’t speak – I’m too busy bracing myself for whatever _socially awful_ thing I’m surely going to do in the next few seconds.

“Bye!” Isabela says. “When I’m back, I’ll have a big ol’ bottle of rum!” She salutes and logs off.

And now… It’s just us.

Fenris and I.

My lips are so _dry_.

And the silence between us feels really unnatural.

“Um…” Fenris clears his throat. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I squeak. “That was pretty chaotic, huh?”

He nods. “Your guild… It’s full of very interesting people.”

“It’s your guild too, you know,” I say.

His eyes widen and he coughs – at least, I think it’s a cough. “That’s true,” he says. “I’m not used to being a member yet…” His voice trails off.

Isabela literally just told us to not talk about the MMO, but… Common ground!

“But you fit in so well with us!” I babble. “You’re fine. We’re the ones who’re lucky to have you. Like,” my mouth is on auto-pilot, “I’m really glad that you joined. I’ve had a lot of fun… And I can actually play! I used to _suck_.” I laugh and it sounds a little bit manic.

“You never sucked,” Fenris says quietly. “Really. You’ve always been great. I’ve done nothing.”

I can feel the dreaded blush creeping onto my cheeks. _No_. “No way, you’ve helped me so much.”

He looks at me and smiles. A genuine smile.

He doesn’t cover his mouth and it isn’t fleeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot continues to be an awesome beta; who else would translate dialogue into yoda-speak for me while enthusing about hawke's beard? thanks again, mary!


	9. Chapter 9

“…So he fell. Just like that! The chair broke again; legs went flying. Err, chair legs, I mean. Though I guess Carver’s legs did a bit of flying, themselves. Anyway, Bethany was laughing so hard. She’s absolutely evil.”

“And you’re _sure_ that you weren’t encouraging her?”

“Nope. No way!” I lean back in my chair and raise my hands defensively. “I’m totally innocent, all the time.”

Fenris chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m sure you are, Hawke.”

“I’m the ideal eldest brother,” I insist. “I don’t get involved in the squabbles of _children_.”

He keeps shaking his head, with that little smirk of his.

We’ve been talking for quite a while.

Yes, I know. _Talking!_ Just us…And I haven’t fucked anything up. I mean, I’m still on autopilot, kind of. If someone was taking a video of this conversation, it’s pretty likely that I’d kick myself over half the stuff I’ve said.

But in the moment?

I’m fine. I’m golden.

And I’m telling him all about my charmingly wacky little family.

“I’m sure Carver appreciated that.”

“He deserved it,” I say, shrugging. “He was being an ass – he kept throwing sawdust in her hair.”

“I can’t believe that you’re actually a carpenter,” Fenris muses. “In a family-owned business, no less.”

I sigh dramatically and grab my bag of cheddar chips. “It’s a selfless profession,” I say, theatrically. “Who else would fix all of the chairs of this world?” I stuff some in my mouth. “If I were a superhero, I’d be Chairman. Wait, that’s an actual word. Oh my god. I’d be a _chairman_.”

I start laughing.

He rolls his eyes.

I laugh even harder.

“Very witty. Excellent,” he says, monotonously, as I compose myself. “And… You’re an artist.”

Now fully composed, I just stare at him. Blankly. While crunching.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “You mentioned that you were an art student,” he says.

“Oh! Yeah. That’s… Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m not really an artist. I dunno. I haven’t carved anything in a long time. I’d rather just fix stuff, I guess.” It’s not a big deal. “It’s more straightforward.”

I spent most of my college years making art and playing various video games. Didn’t have many friends, except for my then-boyfriend… Who was barely around.

But it was thanks to those years (and his ‘ _neglect_ ’) that I met Isabela, actually.

Then Varric… Merrill… Anders…

We were all so hopeless. It was great.

(I met Zevran later on, when Isabela told him about _Hawke’s Carpentry_ – though I heard a _lot_ about him before that. It’s funny how the world works out sometimes.)

“I see,” Fenris mutters. His hair looks so soft. It falls in front of his face, and when he brushes it back, I see the tattoos on his hands.

I can’t believe he has tattoos on his _hands_ … They extend from the white ink lines on his arms.

They’re hauntingly beautiful, and I feel embarrassed for thinking that. 

I picture one of those hands in mine, and my throat goes dry.

The chips aren’t helping.

I should’ve brought water. Dammit, self.

“But I’ve been blabbering forever,” I say, laughing nervously, as if he can tell that I’m currently being pervy (yeah, Garrett. Wanting to _hold hands_ with someone. Totally perverted. Obscene. For shame). “You work at a library!”

“Yes,” he says. “I’ve been working at the library for a few months.”

“Do you…” Don’t say it, Garrett, “…Like to read?”

Dammit, self!

“I… Yes,” he says. He seems a little self-conscious, which is weird, but kind of cute. “I didn’t get to read much when I was younger, so…”

“Making up for lost time?”  

He nods. “Something like that, yes.”

“That’s cool. I read a lot when I was younger.” I shovel more chips in my mouth. I’m a little worried that he’ll think it’s gross, but if someone can’t take the chips, then they definitely can’t take me.

(At least that’s what Anders said, a long time ago. Everyone agreed.)

“Fitting,” Fenris says with a smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

He laughs.

“I read a lot of fantasy stuff. And nature books. I like nature.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m too much of a nerd to go camping, though,” I say. “I like animals too much. I’d see a bear and try to hug it. Then it’d eat me, and I’d die.”

“Don’t hug bears, Hawke.”

“Duly noted.” I grin.

The rest of Wicked Grace would be so proud of me right now.

“Oh! Hey. Speaking of animals,” I say, “I’m amazed that Miles isn’t here right now. I think he’s mad at me.”

He furrows his brow and looks… Confused.

_How is one human being so fucking cute?!_

“He’s mad at you?”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “I left to go to Mother’s house last night – as you know, haha…” Smooth, Garrett. “I left food for him, but I guess he was expecting me back home.”

“I see.”

“I mean,” I toss my bag of chips down on the desk for dramatic effect, “I passed out! On the couch. I had sauce in my beard.”

_No!_

_No filter!_

I have no filter at all.

Fenris still seems confused. He covers his mouth and makes a small “hmm” sound and I feel like I just killed something.

My beard has betrayed me.

I knew it was too gross. I stopped myself before. Why not now?!

I can feel myself slipping into Emergency Garrett Mode.

And do you know what Emergency Garrett does?

I’ll tell you.

He talks.

“Beards are so high-maintenance,” I ramble. “Like, what’s the deal with beards, anyway? If you don’t maintain your beard, you look like a hobo. I mean, really, I don’t want to look like a hobo. I like to maintain an air of professionalism, you know?!” My voice cracks, but I keep going… Without stopping. I’m desperate. I need to fill the empty space. I can’t let it get awkward! “I’ve seen some fashionable hobos, though. Really fashionable. Some hipsters dig that look. I don’t think I do, though. I try to… Shave… Daily. I’m terrified of neck beards. Anders sometimes gets one, and it’s like,” I make a puke-esque noise which I’m sure sounds absolutely beautiful. “I’m sure professional hobos are out there. And their beards are probably professional looking, too. So maybe I’m being disrespectful to hobos. I should apologize to them.” Miles trots into the room, gnawing at his squeaky toy. “And to you. I didn’t mean to offend you, or any of the hobos out there.”

“Uh…”

“A beard is a commitment, you know?” I sigh. “People need to realize that, Fenris.”

“You have a dog?” He asks.

“The sauce thing was a total – Huh? Yeah.” Snapped out of my beard rant, I blink a few times. “Yeah, I do. You… knew that, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” Fenris says.

What? How?!

“How did you not know that?” I’m incredulous. “I was just telling you about him. Miles is mad at me.”

Fenris’ eyes are open so wide. They’re adorably big and so damn green…

“Hey! Miles!” I pat my thigh and turn towards him. “C’mere, boy! Are you ready to stop being a huge baby?”

Miles whines.

“Come see Fenris!” I say.

And that’s when I hear it.

Fenris snorts.

It alarms me and I turn back towards the screen.

His shoulders are shaking and his head is down.

“Are you okay?” I ask, because I’m concerned.

“I’m… It’s… Miles,” he says. “Miles is a dog. Miles is a dog!” He lifts his face up and, oh my god, that’s the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on him.

He’s laughing.

Full-on laughing. It’s loud and gravelly, yet light and airy and…

Kind of dorky. Like a guffaw.

Am I making sense?

Well, regardless… It’s downright infectious.

I start laughing, too.

He covers his eyes with his (tattooed) hands and is practically wheezing.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says. “I… Fuck! Miles is the dog!”

“How did you not know that?!” I’m laughing so hard… “I talk about Miles all the time! I’ve been talking about him for weeks!”

“I thought,” he wipes at his eyes. “I thought he was your… Boyfriend.”

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

I splutter and bang my knee on the desk. This sends an opened bag of chips flying onto the floor.

Miles views this as an invitation and sprints towards them.

“No! Miles! No! Bad dog! Bad! No chips!” I leap out of my chair and start gathering the fallen chips before he can get to them.

My headset’s still on, so I can hear Fenris laughing. And I’m sure he can hear me laughing, too…

His laugh might just be my favorite sound.

It’s up there, next to the sound Miles makes when you scratch his belly.

And as I realize this, I also realize…

That I have it _bad_ for him.

Fenris, I mean.

Not Miles. We established that I am not, in fact, dating my dog.

I shove the chips back into the bag and throw it away, because I don’t trust my own floor…

I take my seat once again.

Fenris’ face is towards his keyboard. His shoulders are shaking and he’s… _Giggling_.

I can’t stop smiling.

Miles stares up at the monitor curiously.

“He’s staring at you, I think,” I say.

Fenris looks up. His face is a bit red from all the laughing. “Ah… Hello.”

Oh my god, he said hello to Miles.

“He says hello,” I inform Miles.

Miles tilts his head and drops his squeaky toy, then wags his stubby tail.

“He can’t play with you, Miles,” I say. “He’s miles away, you know.”

Miles is unaffected by my words.

“Maybe someday,” Fenris says. He’s stopped laughing, but he’s still smiling.

_Argh…_

“I can’t believe you thought Miles was a human!” I exclaim.

“I’m sorry. I now realize that he’s above human status,” Fenris replies.

I start laughing again. “Why… Why are you so…?!”

He smirks.

I mean, I know that I’ve been limiting Miles’ presence in my room… Since he was getting into a weird habit of paying my bed more attention than me.

But still!

“You knew I collected Mabari collars! In the MMO, I mean. They remind me of Miles… My dog.”

He bites his lip. “Some people are into that.”

I lose my shit. Again.

He said that so innocently…

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I’m glad that I can finally clarify that… I didn’t think it needed clarifying. I thought my Total Mess Status spoke for itself. “I mean, I _am_ gay.” I’m also glad that I can clarify _that_. “But… I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had one in a while.” Okay, oops, I didn’t need to say that.

“I see,” Fenris says.

“Yeah. He… I’ve had one. One main boyfriend, I mean.” Oh no. “He turned out to be a dick.”

“What did he do?” There’s a protective edge to his voice and it’s so _raw_ that I almost moan (yes, I’m that much of a loser).

But I don’t. Thank goodness.

“Uh, he turned out to be straight.”

“Shit.”

“I know right?!” I laugh, despite it all. “He… He was really hung up over this chick. Her name was Amell, I think. I don’t think they ever dated, but he really, really wanted to date her…”

Cullen was always that kind of guy.

Really intense.

Once he saw something he liked, he always went for it.

He didn’t care about who he fucked over in the process.

I know he’s different now. But…

“I guess he was heartbroken,” I can’t stop talking. “And he thought he’d try dudes out for a while. Just to see… Y’know, because, if he couldn’t have Amell, why would he want any girl? He thought that being with a guy would be easier.” My hands are shaking. “I mean… We were in college, and he was like… The jock guy I’d always wanted in high school, but could never have.” I swallow and look up at Fenris.

He’s staring back calmly. I can’t read his face.

“I understand,” he says. Gently.

“Yeah. Yeah!” I take a deep breath. “He was like that. I was just this nerdy, artsy guy who couldn’t really connect with anyone… I wasn’t even on great terms with my mother around then – mostly because I was… Dealing with a lot. And he was there. At a party. He was drunk and he tried to make out with me! It was awful. I punched him.”

Fenris smirks at that.

“He apologized to me later, and we started dating in secret.” I wince. “If you’d even call it that. We’d really just sit around half the time.”

He was also _really_ bad at sex.

Like, I know I’m not exactly a tiger in the sheets…

But Cullen didn’t know the first thing about gay sex. I’m just being frank here.

I’m not a very sexual person.

I like warm blankets and cuddling.

But Cullen was _very_ sexual. And for such a sexual guy? He was so bad at it.

I was afraid that sex was _always_ that bad. But… Nope. Just Cullen.

“So he ended it?” Fenris asks.

“Eventually.” I poke at Miles with my big toe. “We were together for two years.”

“ _Christ_ , Garrett.”

“I know!” I laugh and shake my head. “Two years. And he’d be gone half the time. I think he got bored of me since, like I said, we didn’t really do anything that special. Even the sex sucked. Oh, shit! That was his fault, by the way! Not mine! He’s the straight guy!”

DAMMIT, GARRETT!

Fenris laughs. “Right…”

“I’m so serious!” I’m also bright red. “But, anyway. It took him forever to get the courage to meet my family… And after he did, he got spooked out and decided that we had no future.” I shrug. “He broke up with me and said that he doesn’t like guys that way. He said,” I do air quotations, “‘I’m just not gay.’ After _two_ years.”

“So even after dating you for two years, he completely ruled out being bisexual?” Fenris raises an eyebrow.

“Pretty much,” I say. “He didn’t really acknowledge bisexuality.”

“I love it when straight people take the piss at my sexual orientation,” Fenris muses. “Truly.”

So he’s bi.

Fenris is bi.

I have a chance!

I try to play it off cool. “Isabela says that all the time, too.”

“Regardless, your ex sounds like an ass,” Fenris states.

“He was,” I say with a wry smile. “He really was. But… He apologized to me later on, and I’m over it.” Mostly.

“I’m glad,” Fenris says, and he sounds so genuine.

“Yeah. Me too.” I let out a shaky breath. “So… That’s me. My _exciting_ romantic history. How about you?”

He just stares at me.

His jaw is clenched.

I’m mentally kicking myself, because I need to learn that just because I’m willing to divulge random bits of my pathetic life, that doesn’t mean other people are.  

I’m about to start rambling but Fenris clears his throat.

“I’ve been with a lot of people. There was one main person, though.” He says it slowly. He’s looking at me very closely. “I was with him for years.”

“Like an open relationship?” I ask.

“Not really. I…” His voice trails off. “It’s complicated.”

I nod rapidly.

His face is flat, though. He doesn’t seem heartbroken or anything.

“I broke it off. He didn’t want me to.” He nibbles on his lower lip. “He’s very possessive. He always was.”

“So he’s a stalker?”

Fenris winces ever-so-slightly.

For the fucking love of all things holy, Garrett – think before you speak! Think before you say words!

“I’m sorry!” I say, quickly. “I…”

“No, you’re fine,” he shakes his head. “He’s essentially like that, yeah. But I can protect myself. And he’s far away now.”

I feel something hot in my chest but I can’t tell what it is.

Anger, maybe.

“Does he still nag you?”

“Not really.” He shrugs. “He’d show up a lot when I was avoiding him... And I was, for a time. I’m fed up with running now. And, of course, since I’m finally fed up, he seems to have disappeared.”

“Fed up as in… You want to get back together with him?”

“ _Fuck_ no!”

Okay, wow, his voice got really loud. I jumped.

“Never. Not a chance.” He scowls. “I could never. I’d sooner kill him than ever –” His breath hitches.

He didn’t mean to tell me that.

“Your ex sounds a million times worse than mine,” I say. “A million.”

“He’s shit,” Fenris says. “I wouldn’t compare the two. Believe me.”

“You should tell me if he ever tries anything,” I say. “Or Wicked Grace as a whole, actually. I don’t know what I could do to help…” Since I can’t even kick a door down... “But… I’m almost certain that Varric has ties to the mafia.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow.

“I could probably fashion a wooden spear or something. Varric can lead the charge at him with it.”

He laughs. “I’d like to see that.”

“Me too,” I say. “Ugh! Why are we talking about our exes, anyway?”

“I wonder,” Fenris says, with a crooked grin.

 _He better not know that I have a terrible crush on him_.

“It’s all Miles’ fault.” I poke at Miles with my foot. He’s dozing under my desk. “I can’t believe you thought he was a filthy human.”

“I know,” Fenris says. “I mean, you always talk about him being judgmental.”

“Believe me, he totally is! He’s calm right now, but the second you’re gone he’s just going to look at me with those beady little eyes…” He’s going to make me question all my life choices.

“Sounds rough,” Fenris says.

“I love dogs,” I say, seriously.

“I… Like dogs, too,” Fenris says.

“I want twenty dogs, but my landlady would kill me,” I say.

“That’s a shame.”

“I know right?!”

 I start telling him about Meredith; he laughs when I tell him about a particularly unfortunate occurrence concerning uncollected Miles-Poop. (Likely my closest brush with death, to be honest.)

He lives in an apartment complex.

It’s small but close to the library he works at.

“I don’t need that much space,” he says.

“I’m jealous,” I say. “I’m too tall. Lanky, y’know. Everything about me is too big. I need space.”

He cackles at that.

I’m not sure why, initially. But it dawns on me.

“Oh my god!” I clutch my chest. “Fenris! You’re – you’re just as bad as Isabela and Varric. I can’t believe you!”

“I’m not sorry,” he says.

He seems so serious.

I mean, he _is_ serious.

But he’s also a huge nerd.

It’s not surprising, since he _does_ play the MMO really frequently… And, of course…

He’s a member of Wicked Grace.

We’re all beyond saving.

“I’m going to tell Sebastian. He’ll bathe you in holy water.”

“I’d like to avoid that at all costs,” Fenris replies.

My phone vibrates.

I grab it and check it.

 

 **Zevran** (6:36pm):  
Hello, gare! :) :) :)  
I present to you: a message from Isabela freshly copied & pasted:  
“tell him he better still be talkin 2 fenny AND/OR engaging in vid call sex w him”  
I hope you are having fun, u sly dog! <3 <3 <3 :***

 

“Why?!” I exclaim.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asks.

Dammit, Isabela! “It’s my friend! Zevran’s his name. He’s, uh, just mad. We haven’t hung out in a while.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Some people don’t understand how important overrated MMOs are,” I say. “They don’t get that I’m under a strict training regime.”

Fenris rolls his eyes. “It’s hardly strict.”

“I’m following it forever!” It’s a work of art. “I’m not straying from it. Not even a little. It’s _me_.”

“Whatever you say, Hawke.”

I really like how he says my name.

 _Hawke_.

That’s when it happens.

At that exact moment, Anders logs in.

And he immediately invites himself to our conversation.

“Oh… Oh my god.” It’s Anders.

Fenris makes that distinct face again – that fleeting grimace. It’s gone as quickly as it appears.

“What should I do?” I ask.

“Aren’t we having a Wicked Grace call tonight?”

Oh, shit. He doesn’t know about the Operation.

Of course he doesn’t.

That’s a slight relief, I guess.

Wait, does Anders?!

Did Anders legitimately miss the memo?!

“That’s true. He was supposed to be at work, though.” 

“Where does he work?”

“I don’t know. Don’t ask him. He’ll never give you a serious answer.”

“Noted.”

The Invite Request is flashing in front of us.

On one hand, I can accept the invitation and stick true to the “Wicked Grace Group Call” guise which the guild masterfully(?) crafted. On the other hand, I can decline it and have more time to talk to/attempt to flirt(?) with Fenris.

That being said, I have no idea how I’m going to justify _declining_ it without making the Operation blatantly obvious.

“Oh, fuck it.” I accept it.

Anders appears on the screen. “Took you long enough. Woah, where is everyone?!”

“Let’s see…” I fold my arms. “Varric had to deal with his brother. Sebastian had a problem with his flatmate. Merrill wanted to work on a mirror, and Isabela went on an alcohol run.”

“Typical. They can be so flaky.”

_Anders…_

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Nope,” he replies. “I got off early this time.”

“Right.”

I grab my phone again and send a text to Isabela, very quickly:

 

 **Garrett** (6:40pm):  
As it turns out I totally was talking to fenris  
Successfully. gloriously.  
i think we flirted maybe  
HOWEVER  
You seem to have left a certain blond guy out of this particular phase of the operation

 

Anders starts talking about some cute thing his cat did today.

Fenris is clearly spacing out.

I say something about Miles.

Anders says that his cat is superior.

I tell him to take that back, right at this moment.

He urges me to make him.

 

 **Isabela** (6:41pm):  
omg im so proud of u kitten  
and idk what ur talking about varric was the first to leave lol

 

 

 **Isabela** (6:41pm):  
LOL WAIT  
OH SHIT  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to mary aka snoot! of course, mary also beta'd it. but! it's also dedicated to mary, because mary is an incredible human being who deserves infinite praise and good things.


	10. Chapter 10

“Well, uh… Don’t kill me! But… I told him about my ex.”

“ _The_ ex?”

“ _The_ ex.”

“Kitten… What the fuck?” Isabela raises an eyebrow. “Why on _earth_ would you tell your hot new love interest about that slice of stale bread?”

“He’s not stale bread! And I don’t know! One thing led to another!”

“Garrett, I can see chip crumbs in your beard!” Merrill chirps.

“I know. I’m disgusting.” I stick my hand back into the bag of BBQ chips. “I’m just… I’m so frustrated!”

“Sexually frustrated?”

“Stop, Isabela.” I shove a handful of chips into my mouth.

She laughs.

Fenris is offline (that’s why I’m allowing Isabela to refer to him as my ‘hot new love interest’). He had to go meet up with someone. Honestly, I think he just made an excuse to bail on the increasingly awkward nature of the Anders Conversation.

Yes, it got so awkward that it got a title and will probably live in infamy forever.

Isabela and Varric did actually leave their respective houses, and Merrill was taking a _really long_ bubble bath. I don’t even know where Sebastian went, or where he is. Maybe he didn’t lie. Maybe that wouldn’t have been… Priestly.

Anyway, no one could salvage the situation. The result? Abysmal.

“I can’t believe you left me out of the Operation!” Anders is pissed.

As soon as Fenris left, I asked him if he missed the memo. He confirmed that he did.

They forgot all about him.

“I, for one, _also_ can’t believe that you left him out of the Operation!” I really can’t.

“It happens,” Varric says.

“I’m an integral part of this movement!” Anders wails.

“You don’t even _like_ Fenris,” Isabela points out.

“That doesn’t matter! I’m still part of the guild! If _Sebastian_ can be a part of it, I need to be!”

“Nice logic,” I say dryly.

“You should be upset about this, too!” Anders retorts. “I – Oh my god, I was a third wheel. I was the third wheel!”

“Believe me, I’m upset, too.” I sigh. I was doing _so_ well…

“It wasn’t intentional, I promise,” Varric says.

“These things happen for a reason,” Merrill adds, with a sagely nod.

“Bullshit,” Anders grumbles.

“You guys made it _so_ obvious, too,” I say. “Merrill’s mirror…”

Merrill turns visibly red. “Oh, I’m no good with pressure! I heard about the plan a few minutes before.”

“Nice communication, Isabela,” I say.

She shrugs and takes a sip of her (new) rum, straight from the bottle. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Varric?”

“No dice, Hawke,” Varric says. “It was the Choir Boy.”

“What?!” Anders and I exclaim in unison.

“Cross my heart.” Varric smirks. “He was saying how it’s _so_ effective. I don’t think he has your number though, Blondie.”

“I can’t believe it,” Anders says. He’s shaking his head a lot. “I can’t believe that the little princely priest _newbie_ is more involved in this guild operation than I am.”

As if on cue, Sebastian logs into the video chat client.

“Invite him right now!” I say.

Isabela cackles and obliges.

“You’re a priest! A priest!” His screen hasn’t fully loaded and I’m already expressing my disbelief.

“A priest in training,” he says, but he’s laughing. “Isabela texted me…” He loads up. His hair is slicked back – he lookseven more similar to his MMO character. “My apologies, Anders.”

Anders is pouting.

“You’re the most evil priest ever,” I say.

“Thank you, Garrett.” He smiles and looks so _serene_.

“I can’t believe you. Do you even have a ‘flatmate’?!” I do air quotations.

“Ah, nope!” He laughs. “I was pretending to talk to my wall, actually.” So when he looked beyond his monitor… Oh. I guess his computer’s up against a wall… Like most people’s computers are. How did I miss that?!

“Unbelievable!”

“If I was in on this I would’ve had a flawless excuse,” Anders says.

“Hey! Mine was totally believable!” Isabela puts her bottle of rum down.

“You wasted a whole bottle of rum for little old me.” I place my hand over my heart. “I’m so touched.”

“Kitten, I love you and all, but I wouldn’t waste a bottle of rum for anyone,” Isabela states. “I filled an empty bottle up with water. Made it very realistic.”

I frown and let my hand drop.

“Hey! Don’t give me that look!” Isabela grins. “The glass was still a pain to clean up.”

“If I knew everyone was going to come up with their own elaborate excuses, I’d have given mine some more flair,” Varric says.

“Yours was the most believable one, though,” I say.

“Still. I could’ve added in some _drama_. Like…” He pauses for a few seconds, then begins talking in an incredibly animated fashion: “Hey, I’ve gotta run! The cops are at my door. They’ll never take me again, Hawke. Never again.”

His expression is so serious with the final ‘never again’ that I get a little spooked.

 _Mafioso_.

“Mine would’ve been better!” Anders insists.

“Fine then, Blondie. Come up with your best _Operation: Hard in Hightown_ excuse. Go.”

Anders stares at him. “Fine. I need to go buy food for Ser Pounce-A-Lot.” He smiles, all proud of himself.

Varric makes a tsk-tsk-tsk sound. “Pet-related excuses are weak, Blondie.”

“I’d give it a solid 2/10,” Isabela says.

“What?!”

“Garrett uses Miles as an excuse all the time,” Merrill says. “It doesn’t work very well.”

“I’ve learned my lesson, believe me,” I say. “Fenris thought that Miles was a human. He also thought that I was dating him.”

I already regret revealing that.

Sebastian starts laughing. Granted, he tries to hide it by covering his mouth… But it doesn’t work.

Isabela, on the other hand? She’s letting it all out.

“ _Fucking hell_!” She’s wheezing. “Hawke, you’re… How? How?!”

“This is why disclaimers are important,” Varric says.

“Why the hell would _anyone_ think that Ser Pounce-A-Lot is a _human’s_ name?” Anders asks.

“It could be a nickname,” Merrill chirps. “Like… Fluffy!”

“Why would you ever call your boyfriend ‘Fluffy?’” Anders scoffs.

“He may be a fluffy person,” Merrill replies. “Garrett’s beard is very fluffy. It’s a cute name. I think it suits him.”

My beard has been a hot topic lately.

“Ugh, this is so ridiculous,” Isabela says. “I’m proud of you, kitten. But… We need to bring in the big guns.”

“Will these ‘big guns’ involve your boobs?” I ask, only partially joking.

“No. Well, maybe.”

“Isabela!”

“No promises!” She laughs. “Anyway, we’ll work some magic.”

“I’m good at that,” Anders adds. “Magic, I mean.”

Don’t say it, Anders. Don’t say it.

“Because I’m a mage.”

He said it.

We all groan, except for Merrill, who delightedly claps her hands.

“Just leave this to the professionals, Blondie,” Varric says, with a suspicious little wink.

I must be losing it, because that all-too-familiar knot of _dread_ in my chest (which I’ve come to associate with all things _Operation_ -related) has been replaced by a… Flutter.

A flutter.

It’s not a medical condition or anything. Just a mysterious little _flutter_ which is weirdly hopeful and reminiscent of… Silly childhood crushes.

Isabela and Sebastian are staring at me knowingly.

_Dammit!_

It’s going to be a long (and, sadly, Fenris-less) night.

 

~  
  


It’s Saturday morning. 10am, to be precise.

I’m standing in front of the pastry display case at _Duncan’s_.

I may or may not be holding back the entire line.

The cashier -- a blonde woman with a ton of tattoos -- is holding the tongs and glaring at me. Her name tag says _Velanna._ She seems to be perpetually grumpy.

Probably because I’m reading her name tag instead of deciding on what I want to eat.

I finally give in and decide on a cinnamon bagel and hot chocolate.

Velanna doesn’t stop glaring. Not even as I pay her.

Bethany is somewhere behind the counter and out of my sight. She was serious about getting a job here, apparently. Zevran convinced Cousland to hook her up with an interview… I’m here for moral support.

I take a seat (facing the counter, so that I can see Bethany the _second_ she’s out) and take a huge bite of the bagel.

Like, a massive one. I’ve eaten, like, at least half of it already.

I glance up. Velanna’s _still_ glaring at me.

I check my phone for texts, as I do in most awkward situations.

 

 **Isabela** (9:41am):  
WISH BETHY LUCK 4 ME!  
shes got this

 

 **Garrett** (10:16am):  
Ive literally never heard from you this early on a saturday morning  
Are you ok……

 

I get an immediate reply.

 

 **Isabela** (10:16am):  
shhhhhhh im showing support from afar  
u know im always supporting cute girlz ;) ;)

 

 **Garrett** (10:16am):  
Why must you hit on my sister through me. Why.

 

 **Isabela** (10:17am):  
idk garrett whys WATER WET

 

 **Garrett** (10:17am):  
Thats so mature, Isabela. so mature.

 

 **Isabela** (10:17am):  
DID U TELL BETHY I WISHED HER LUCK

 

 **Garrett** (10:17am):  
She was in the interview room already. Ur too late.

 

 **Isabela** (10:17am):  
U R A LIAR GARRETT HAWKE!!!!!  
zev told me her interviews at 10 and i texted u at 9:41  
therefore u r just a piss poor messenger

 

Oops, she caught me.

 

 **Garrett** (10:17am):  
I was choosing a pastry okay!!!

 

 **Isabela** (10:17am):  
>:(

 

I glug down some hot chocolate and glance back towards the register.

The small mob of people has been served, which means that Velanna has even more time to glare at me.

 

 **Garrett** (10:17am):  
The barista here wants my blood i think

 

 **Isabela** (10:17am):  
is she cute

 

I raise my head cautiously and stare at her.

 

 **Garrett** (10:17am):  
She has a lot of cool tattoos.

 

 **Isabela** (10:18am):  
not my question but thanks  
is zev w u?

 

 **Garrett** (10:18am):  
no, Cousland has the day off  
Zevran said that theyre having a “quiet day” @ home, w/e that means

 

 **Isabela** (10:18am):  
AWWWW theyre prob havin some deliciously wild sex as we speak  
how cute

 

I narrowly avoid choking on my cinnamon bagel.

 

 **Garrett** (10:18am):  
Its TEN IN THE MORNING

 

 **Isabela** (10:18am):  
do u not know zevran lol  
believe me hes ready to go whenever wherever

 

She has a point.

But I’m still not over that one time – weeks ago – that I sought solace and ended up interrupting them… The fateful call that Cousland answered.

Well, I’m not sure if I interrupted them. I don’t want to think about it.

 

 **Garrett** (10:18am):  
Why are we talking about this?!?!

 

 **Isabela** (10:18am):  
im bored and mildly annoyed w u so im messin w u  
take a pic of the girl and ill 4give you

 

 **Garrett** (10:18am):  
ABSOLUTELY NOT

 

I hear a familiar voice from the counter and look up. Bethany is animatedly chatting with a tall, middle-aged (yet still _very_ attractive) guy. His dark hair is in a ponytail, and he has an incredibly well-groomed beard.

“Garrett!” Bethany speed-walks up to me. “I got the job!”

“Already?!” That was really quick. I stand up and she hugs me.

The tall guy with the ponytail just smiles.

“I, uh…” I’m staring at him over Bethany’s head. “Who…?”

Bethany pulls away and points at him. “This is Duncan! He’s my boss.”

Duncan!

Duncan from _Duncan’s_!

“You’re real!” I blurt out.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Duncan! You’re… Duncan. From _Duncan’s_.” Nice. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Oh,” Duncan says. “Yes. I’m the owner. “

I always thought that _Duncan_ ’s was just… A name. To make the coffee shop seem quainter. More personable.

“I start on Monday!” Bethany exclaims.

“That’s great,” I say.

“Your sister has quite the constitution,” Duncan says. I stare at him blankly.

“I can handle caffeine _really,_ _really_ well!” Bethany shouts.

Oh, right. The weird little employment ritual, with the strong coffee.

That explains the hug… And why she’s talking at a pretty loud volume. Some people are staring.

“Sure you can,” I say. I put my hands on her shoulders. “I’ll buy you a bagel. How about that?”

“Sure!” She turns back towards Duncan. “Thank you so much for your time! And also for giving me the job!” She bows. God, Bethany…

Duncan seems very amused by the whole thing. “Of course. You’re more than worthy. You can pick up your apron tomorrow, and…”

The two start talking about job-related things. My phone screen lights up.

 

 **Isabela** (10:20am):  
pls tell me when bethy gets the job  
bc we all know shes gunna get the job

 

 **Garrett** (10:20am):  
She got it!!!

 

 **Isabela** (10:20am):  
YESSSSSS tell her i say congrats ;)  
and also that i want pics of her in her apron pls

 

Ulterior motives. I shake my head and laugh.

“…Right, Big Brother?”

“Huh?” I look up from my phone screen. Duncan and Bethany stare back at me.

“I said, ‘I live in the area.’ Right?”

“Oh, right. Yeah, a few minutes away.” I pause. “We’re regulars here, actually.”

“Ah, yes. Cousland told me. I’m glad to hear that.” Duncan smiles. “Well, like I said, you can pick up your apron tomorrow if you’d like.” He looks up at me. “And she should probably eat something. That brew of The Corruption was pretty strong.”

“Why would anyone name coffee ‘ _The Corruption_?!’” That just sounds foreboding. And also gross.

Duncan chuckles. “We make it for potential employees. It’s not for sale.”

Bethany laughs… hysterically.

I don’t want to know.

“Okay, right. Bagel. Right,” I say. I walk over the pastry display case again, and Velanna scrunches her face up.

Bethany and Duncan shake hands. He heads back behind the counter as I pick a chocolate chip bagel out for Bethany.

 

~

 

“And I was just like, why do you even _care_ , Saemus?!” Bethany huffs. “I swear, boys are so stupid! All the time!”

“We definitely are,” I say. I’m on my fifth mug of hot chocolate.

She’s in a very expressive mood. She’s telling me all about her college friends.

“If you love Ashaad or whatever, who cares what your dad thinks?!” She sighs. She’s been drinking way too much coffee, but she seems to have worked The Corruption out of her system. “Remember how _our_ mom abandoned everything for _our_ dad? Everything ended up fine!”

“Leaving out the whole ‘disowned-by-her-entire-family’ thing, yeah, stuff ended up fine.”

“Shush!” She throws a sugar packet at me (apparently I’m doomed to always get attacked by sugar packets at _Duncan’s_ ). “That’s how we were _born_ , Garrett.”

“True. By the way,” I gesture to my phone, which is on the table, “Isabela said congratulations. On the job.” I leave out the apron picture part, because apparently I’m also doomed to eternally filter Isabela’s passes at my little sister.

“She did?” Bethany looks down into the mug of coffee in her hands.

A weirdly awkward silence falls between us.

“So, um, about Isabela…” She starts to speak, but then Aerosmith interrupts her.

“Sorry!” I grab my phone and answer it. “Hello?”

“Garrett!” It’s Anders. “Garrett, you need to come online right now.”

“What?! Why? I’m not home,” I say. I check my watch – it’s 11:30am. “Why is everyone up so _early_ today?!”

“It’s 11:30am,” Bethany mutters as she sips at her coffee. “You’re all messes.”

I stick my tongue out at her.

“I don’t know. Your _boyfriend_ wants you. We’re doing a Deep Roads run.”

“No!” I wail. “ _Hell_ no!

Bethany squints at me.

“I’m not going near the Deep Roads!” Least favorite dungeon of all time.

Bethany seems to be deep in thought.

“You _will_. If you don’t, I’ll tell Fenris that you cry every time you watch _The Notebook_.”

No! “Fuck you!”

“See you soon, Hawkey.” Anders laughs and hangs up.

I growl and stuff my phone in my pocket. “As much as I _love_ hearing about Saemus’ various escapades with Ashaad, I have to go.”

“The Deep Roads… Is that a dungeon?”

“Yeah.” I sigh. “It’s the worst one in the whole _game_ and I’m being blackmailed into doing it. Whoo.”

“Is it the one near the beginning of the storyline?” Bethany frowns. “The one I kept dying in.”

“Oh my god, I forgot that you played the MMO for like, a day!” I start laughing. “That’s the one. Yep.”

“Gross.” She makes a disgusted face. “I stopped right after that. I died at least ten times.”

“That’s just because we didn’t have a healer. Anders was on vacation.” A very shady vacation, but a vacation nonetheless.

“I don’t care.” She pouts. “I don’t like dying.”

“Neither do I,” I say. “And I’m about to do a _lot_ of it.”

 

~

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lol cmon kittennnn

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ABSOLUTELY NOT.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : see. what did i tell u fenris

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : hes fckin impossible

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha.

 

“You’re being a whiny little shit,” Isabela informs me.

“I am not! You know how I feel about the Deep Roads!” I wail.

“You complain about every single dungeon, Garrett,” Aveline says.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Hawke, let’s just get on with it.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : You came online. You were expecting this. Let’s go.

 

“I _will_ bring up The Notebook,” Anders says. “I’ll do it in the most embarrassing way possible.”

“Yeah right,” I grumble.

Fenris is at work, so he can’t hear us… Hence why we’re actually bothering with typing.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Hey, Fenris. There’s this one movie Garrett ALWAYS watches…

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : AAAJDKDJGJFDH

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : fdlgkfdlhkhkLKBLGFKH

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ldfg;fdlkh;klKLDHKFDKH HSDKGLDKJH

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : FFFRHFRHFRHRHRHR JDLKGFH

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I AM READY

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I WILL DO THE DUNGEON

 

“Smooth as _fuck_ ,” Isabela says.

“Anders, you’re the worst wingman ever,” I snap.

He laughs.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Alright, I’ll warp us all to the entrance, then.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : sure.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : No problem! :)

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : maker bless u big girl

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Shut up.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : omg u r so MEAN to me ));

 

“I don’t know why, but that just didn’t seem sincere to me,” Aveline says.

“So rude!” Isabela exclaims.

White text appears across my screen:

 

– Accept Party Warp from [ **captvallen** ] ? –

 

I begrudgingly click “Yes.”

My screen goes black. I stare at my reflection. I look appropriately grumpy, and also a little gross.

I sit up a bit straighter and adjust my shirt.

The dungeon entrance loads up.

I’m standing in a really stony, dirty area with a lot of huge blue crystals all over the place.

Aveline is already there, with her lion-face shield, and…

“You got a new sword!” I exclaim. It’s _huge_ for a one-handed sword, and it has a fancy hilt that’s gold and black in color.

“I did,” Aveline replies.

“It’s so cool!”

Fenris and Anders load up at the same time. Isabela follows.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : you got glandivalis? congratulations.

 

“Oh my god, he’s so smart,” I say.

“It’s only one of the most sought-after swords in the game, Garrett,” Anders says. “Everyone knows about it. Do you even _play_?”

I turn red and pout.

“Don’t ruin my kitten’s _fun_ , Anders,” Isabela says.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : I did! The quest was a pain, but it was worth it.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : its shiny!!!!

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : very shiny.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : SUPER SHINY

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Yes, the shininess is a plus.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Anyway, are we ready?

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : We’ve been ready FOREVER. Garrett was keeping us back.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : >:(

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : calm yo tits

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : my tits are VERY calm!!!!

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i’m sure they are, hawke.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : also, yes, i’m ready.

 

“Ha. Ha. Fenris vaguely referenced your nonexistent tits,” Anders says monotonously.

“Can we please not take the conversation into this territory?” I grumble. “Like, let’s not.”

“Fenris can vaguely reference my tits _any day_ ,” Isabela croons.

“Like I said,” I say, “let’s just _not_.”

“I’m kidding, Hawkey!”

 

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _] is online_.

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Wait a sec.

 

“Ooh, it’s Varric!” Isabela exclaims.

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Sorry, I’m not at home right now, can’t go onto voice chat.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Riviani, you might wanna log off for a bit.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : wat o_o

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : A guy told me to pass on a message to you. Something about a unique item being sold on the market, and a veeeery angry guild…

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Does this ring any bells?

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : LOL a bit too many tbh

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : fuuuuuck lmaooo

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Basically.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : They’re doing some loosely illegal thing involving a database search, trying to track you down. Right now.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : So you might wanna lay low for a few hours, as is the norm.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : LOOOOOOOOOL

 

“Can you believe how much these nerds love me?” Isabela muses. “To go as far as this…” She starts laughing.

“Again, Isabela?” Aveline sighs.

“What did you do this time?” Anders asks. Sincerely. Because Isabela _does_ a lot of things.

“Nothing special, Andy-poo,” Isabela replies.

I start laughing at that name. _Andy-poo_ …

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : this happens often, i take it?

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ya…..

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Shit happens.

 

“Ergh.” Isabela groans. “This is annoying. I’ll have to take some precautionary measures, I guess.”

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i’ll leave the guild 4 a bit

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : gonna cover ur butts, even tho i luv them

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : :(

 

“Aw, no!” I hate when Isabela leaves the guild. I mean, she does it occasionally (namely, when she wants to _steal_ things from other guilds), and she’s told us time and time again that she _will_ be back, but… It makes me sad. Every time.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : When will you learn to stop messing around with these hardcore guilds?

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : when they stop bein so fun 2 mess around with

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : If this ends up having consequences, I’m going to kick your arse, Isabela.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : kinky ;)

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : -_-

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : we can handle any possible consequences, i’m sure.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : see??? this is y i LUV fenris

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : anyway ya here i go

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : no deep roads 4 meee

 

White text appears across the screen:

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ _has left [_ **Wicked Grace** _]_.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : she can’t hear you, hawke.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : wait. i guess she can if you’re in the chatroom together. never mind.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : but she can’t see guild chat.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : WHOOPS

 

“I yelled ‘no’ in guild chat,” I inform her. “Fenris informed me that you can’t see guild chat anymore.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Isabela replies. “Okay, anyway. I’m going to log off now. I want to go to the mall!”

Her character does a little wave, then vanishes.

“Bye, Isabela,” I say. “Don’t get mauled by any vengeful nerds on the way over there.”

“I can take them,” Isabela says.

“Can you?” Anders asks. “There’s all sorts of pent-up resentment in their scrawny little bodies, you know.”

“You’re describing yourself, Anders, and if they’re anything like you, I can definitely take them,” Isabela retorts.

Anders laughs.

“Goodbye, Isabela,” Aveline says. “And, like I said, if this has negative consequences for the guild, I’ll kick your arse.”

“You always have my back, big girl!” Isabela giggles. “Anyway, toodle-oo.”

She goes offline.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Isabela has left the building

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Yeah, I’ve gotta head out, too.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Just logged in to give the message.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Have fun in the Deep Roads, you wild kids.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Don’t let the Broodmother bite. ;)

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : UGHHHH

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : goodbye, varric.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Talk to you later.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Bye.

 

Varric goes offline.

“Well, it’s _finally_ time to kick some Darkspawn ass,” Anders says.

I groan some more.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : do we have to do this :(

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Again, that one movie…

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : S T O P

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Fenris, we seem to be going into this dungeon with two children.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : hmm.

 

I can hear that “hmm” in his voice.

And I visualize his face for a second – how he looked when we were video chatting, pre-Anders Conversation. Fenris’ face, in that little square window on my computer screen…

I gurgle a little.

“Hawke, please,” Aveline says with a sigh.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Well, here we go.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : (Finally.)

 

 _Dungeon_ [ **The Deep Roads** ] _commenced_.

 

We get warped to another stony, dirty area. This one has even more huge blue crystals. We start running forward, with Aveline leading the charge.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Look at all these lyrium veins. Yum.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ))))))):

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Chill.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ))))):<

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Oh my god.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Stay sharp, boys.

 

A herd of Darkspawn surround us, all yelling their Darkspawn-y things.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Hawke, use Bellow.

 

I squint at my skills bar, and… I totally don’t have that skill.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : he doesn’t have it.

 

He knows my skills better than I do.

I start laughing.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Oh my god.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Okay, I’m on it, then.

 

She draws aggro.

We all go storming through the crowd. Well, except Anders. He stays back (appropriately) and castes a bunch of complex-looking fire spells.

Between Fenris, Aveline and I, aggro just keeps switching… But the battle goes by surprisingly quickly.

I guess that means I really _am_ getting tougher. I mean, I’m one-shotting things, and that barely ever happens. I’m also landing a _lot_ more critical hits than usual…

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : So, Hawke’s build… It’s not a tank one?

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it has some tank-like elements.

 

We keep running through the dungeon, slaying dozens of nasty Darkspawn. Fenris and Aveline start chatting about complex warrior things. Things that I don’t understand _at all_.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Guess I’m the only tank-centred warrior in WG then, huh?

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Though you know how to sponge damage quite well, Fenris.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i try. sometimes.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I will never be ur sponge!!!!

 

Anders sighs.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Ugh, warriors.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Let’s just stay focused and get this over with. I want loot.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I KNEW IT ur motivations are selfish!!!!!

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Hey, the Deep Roads was Fenris’ idea!

 

I gasp dramatically.

Then I remember Fenris can’t hear me.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I just gasped dramatically!

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : It’s true, he did.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : we all have to face our fears sometimes, hawke.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ;)

 

_Winky face._

“Winky face,” I groan.

“You’re pathetic,” Anders says affectionately.

“This is still all your fault,” I say.

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : im not about the fear-facing lifestyle

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I like non-fear inducing scenarios.

 

A giant spider suddenly descends from the fucking cave’s ceiling and I scream _very_ loudly.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : You’re a cowARKTGL

 

“Your _scream_ scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims.

“Nice,” Aveline says.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Nice.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : nice.

 

They practically typed that in unison.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Shut up! Hawke scared me!

 

We bring the giant spider down quickly.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Okay, I have no idea which build you’re running, Hawke.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : It makes no sense to me. Yet, somehow, you’re amazing.

 

“Aw!” I yell. “Aw!”

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : is he squealing in the chatroom?

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Of course he is.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Im yelling in a manly manner tyvm!!!!

 

“Fenris made this build for me! He knows me so well!” I’m talking at a very high pitch. “I can’t believe it! Aveline approval. This is the best day of my life!”

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : He’s having a moment.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it’s okay, hawke.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : No, it’s not. He’s being way too loud.

 

Anyway, we zoom through the dungeon. Despite my miraculous improvements, it’s just as miserable as it always is.

At one point, I almost started crying.

An Ogre picked me up and squished me.

I didn’t like that one bit.

Then we had to kill a ton of baby dragons.

I didn’t like that one bit, either.

By the time we’re at the door before the final boss, I feel _way_ too jumpy. I’m on high alert.

Aveline interacts with it, and the screen fades to black as the Broodmother fight loads up. The chat box is still there, though.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Huh. Feels weird, going into a Broodmother fight without Isabela.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Who’ll make sexual jokes the entire time?

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : you could give it a shot.

 

The boss room appears. The ground and walls are _covered_ in flesh and delightful sacs of flesh. Mysterious substances ooze out of some.

I skip the cut scene, because I’m not in the mood to see the Broodmother in all her squishy, screeching, tentacle-y glory.

Anders casts a quick buff on us and we charge in.

I’m slashing away at tentacles with Aveline, while Fenris is mauling the Broodmother herself.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Hmmmmm…

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : She has a lot of boobs.

 

“Hilarious, Anders,” I say dryly.

“She does!” He says.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : an astute observation.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : I’m not Isabela, okay?

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Good. I can’t deal with two of her.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ha ha, anders’ jokes suck!

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : wait, that was his joke?

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : I’m not healing either of you anymore.

 

“No!” I yell. My health is already at the 50% mark. “I take it back! You’re hilarious.”

Anders snorts.

 

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : No amount of begging shall save you now.

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Rule #1 of MMORPGs: Never piss off the healer.

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : You are a poop.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : we’re almost done, anyway.

 

He’s right – the Broodmother’s essentially dead.

Fenris delivers the final attack on her, and a really cool “Finishing Blow” animation plays.

I slyly take a screenshot.

Anders gets some flashy staff, and we finally teleport out of the Hellhole which is the Deep Roads.

We’re all gathered on the Wounded Coast now.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Good job. That wasn’t too bad, now, was it, Hawke?

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : yeah it was ok but Im never doing it again.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : you did well.

 

I giggle.

“Hawke…” Aveline sighs.

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : I have to head out now, but that was a damn good run.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Hawke, I’ll text you later about that thing I mentioned.

 

What?

“What thing?” I ask.

“Shut it,” Aveline replies. “Just play along. Say ‘okay.’”

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Ok, cool!

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Oh, wait.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Fenris, I don’t have your number.

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ah, none of you do. and i don’t have your numbers, either.

 

Holy shit.

Is Aveline doing what I think she’s doing…?

 

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : We should exchange them, then!

 

She did it.

Aveline totally did it.

Fenris tells us his number.

And we each tell him our numbers.

My hands shake as I put Fenris’ into my phone.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Anders says. “That was _incredibly_ smooth, Vallen.”

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “You… _Operation_ ’d me.”

“You’re welcome,” Aveline replies, smugly.

I stare at my phone.

The word _Fenris_ stares back at me.

And I smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot beta'd this chapter once again! and also consoled me as i complained about writer's block, amongst many other things. mary is AWESOME. you should all know this by now.
> 
> also: if anyone's interested, i have a mix dedicated to wicked grace. i may or may not listen to it on repeat while i write. i figured i'd share it, just in case any of you are into that sort of thing (and it's the 10th chapter, which is pretty special. so. yeah!). think of it as a little gift as thanks for your continued support, et cetera. [here it is](http://8tracks.com/remus/wicked-grace)!


	11. Chapter 11

“Ah, yes!” Zevran stretches. “I feel like we have not done this in forever!”

Morrigan rolls her eyes. “More like we do this far too often.”

We used to go to _Duncan’s_ after work pretty religiously (I have _no idea_ how I never met Duncan before. Bethany said that it’s because I’m “always oblivious to my surroundings,” which was very hurtful). It used to be a routine, but over the years it’s kind of declined.

“Oh, please!” Zevran grabs onto her arm. “Ever since you had that _spawn_ of yours, we have hardly been able to slack off with you. We miss you! Right, Garrett?” He pouts.

“Right,” I say, also pouting at her.

“Oh, how would I _ever_ survive without your incessant babbling and Hawke’s obscure, nerdish references?” Morrigan asks, wistful. “Truly… I cannot live without either of you. You bring such joy into my life. Not even my own child could entertain me as much as Zevran Arainai and Garrett Hawke do.”

“How’s he doing, anyway?” I ask, over my mug of hot chocolate (at this point, I’m essentially addicted to _Duncan’s_ hot chocolate). “Your kid, I mean.”

“He’s been fine,” Morrigan answers. “He’s grown fond of slamming pots and pans together.”

“You must be enjoying that,” Zevran coos.

“Oh, I don’t have to deal with it whilst at work,” Morrigan says, with a quirky little smile. “My dearest sister gets that honor.”

“Poor Yavana.” Zevran laughs.

“Do you have any new baby pictures?!”

Morrigan sighs. “Garrett, I’m not one of _those_ mothers.” She reaches into her black leather purse and pulls an iPhone out. “I don’t look for excuses to show my child off to the world.” She pokes at the screen and then slides it across the table to me.

Naturally, there’s an album _full_ of new baby pictures.

I squeal in my usual manly manner and start going through them.

Morrigan rolls her eyes again, but you can tell that she loves her kid. A lot.

She’s a single mom (I know _nothing_ about the father; Morrigan apparently doesn’t want to talk about it. Ever), but her sister helps her out with the kid while she’s at work.

Bethany sometimes babysits for her, too… At Mother’s house.

I always offer to, but Morrigan always denies.

So hurtful…

Bethany scampers over to us as I slide the iPhone back to Morrigan. She’s wearing the stylish dark grey-and-blue striped apron (it has a cool bird-like creature on the front, with _Duncan’s_ written under it). Her nametag says “Bethany” -- she drew a small heart next to it.

“Hi! How are you guys? Need any refills?” She asks. A small notepad is in one of her hands.

“No, but I _do_ need a picture of you dressed like that,” Zevran purrs.

Bethany frowns. “Zev, you’re not my mom! I’m on the job right now!”

“But you are so adorable!” Zevran exclaims. “I need to take a picture for Isabela!”

Red in the face, she swats at him with the notepad, and he laughs.

“It’s just a normal day!” She insists.

I know that she’s making an extra effort today, though, because she has a small blue clip in her hair. It matches her apron. She’s also wearing a bit more eyeliner than usual. Too cute. “When does your shift end?”

“Um, at 5:30.” She smiles at me. “Could you give me a ride home? I’m too lazy to walk there!”

“Fine, fine,” I say. “I can make some time in my busy schedule for you.”

“Yes, Garrett’s _quite_ a busy man,” Morrigan muses. “He has dragons to slay and princesses to rescue.”

“Do not forget the elves he has to woo,” Zevran adds.

“I hate both of you,” I say.

“You can’t say that they’re wrong, though.”

I glare at Bethany. She giggles.

“I don’t want to get in trouble on my first day, though, so I’ll talk to you later!” She waves and scurries off, notepad in tow, to another table.

“And… Sent,” Zevran says.

“What?”

He looks at me, eyes wide and lips pursed. Then he slowly turns his phone screen (when did he even take his phone out?!) towards me. A picture of Bethany, looking at me and smiling, is on the screen.

“What… How?!” When did he even take that?!

“I have my ways,” he says.

Morrigan smirks.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I’m very loyal to Isabela!” Zevran announces. He sips at his _exotic_ coffee (I swear, he gets a different one every time and I never know what it is – the names are just too complicated and I can’t roll my r’s) and winks.

“I want nothing to do with this,” I inform him.

“This _Isabela_ seems quite devious,” Morrigan says. “I _like_ devious.”

“Oh, my dear Morrigan... You do not know the half of it,” Zevran replies. “ _Devious_ doesn’t begin to describe that woman.”

I grumble some more. My phone vibrates.

 

 **Fenris** (5:17pm):  
hey. are you coming online tonight?

 

I forgot that I got his number.

He texted me first. Fenris… Texted me first.

I gape at my phone.

“Who is that?” Zevran asks.

I snap back to reality.

The shock of Fenris texting me first was strong enough that I forgot my current surroundings.

“No one,” I squeak. I press my phone against my chest.

“Oh,” Zevran says. He stares at me.

“It’s my mother,” I lie.

“I see,” Zevran says. “So, Leandra’s _no one_ …”

I laugh nervously. “You know what I mean.”

“Hmm,” Morrigan says. She takes a long sip of her (black) coffee, without breaking eye contact with me.

I smile.

“Poor Leandra,” she says, slowly. “’Tis a shame that she has a son who’s such a _terrible_ liar. I can only hope that my dearest son won’t turn out the same way.”

“I’m not –” Before I can formulate a poorly worded excuse, Zevran practically dives across the table and grabs my phone in one fluid motion.

“Hey!” I lunge at him and almost knock my mug of hot chocolate down.

He cackles. People are staring.

I feel like people stare at me every time I’m at _Duncan’s_.

Bethany speed-walks behind the counter, using her notepad to cover her face.

“Now, let’s see…” Zevran squints at my phone’s screen. Morrigan tilts her head to see it, too.

“Really, guys? Really?!” I should’ve known that it’s impossible to lie to them.

“My goodness! _Fenris_. That’s the elf boy, isn’t it?” Zevran gasps. “Garrett! You got his _number_?!”

“I did. That is a thing I did.”

“You’re lying,” Morrigan says. “One of his friends must be behind this.”

“True,” Zevran says.

I frown. Once again, I can’t say that they’re wrong.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Zevran starts poking at the touch screen.

“No!” I holler and lunge across the table again. People stare… Again.

“Stop making a scene, Garrett,” Morrigan says, taking another sip of coffee.

“Give it back!” I whine.

“Oh, fine,” Zevran hands it back to me with a cocky little grin. “I cannot believe it! Garrett got a _boy’s_ number.”

I stick my tongue out at him.

“What kind of name is that, anyway? _Fenris_.” Morrigan inspects her (perfectly manicured) nails.

“What kind of name is _Morrigan_?!” I retort.

“Oh, grow up,” she sneers. “Is he the one who may or may not be a serial killer?”

“For the hundredth time, he is _not_ a serial killer,” I say. “He works at a library.”

“Whatever. Do you have any pictures of him?” Morrigan asks.

“No… Just screenshots of his character,” I reply.

“What did I say?” Morrigan sighs and turns to Zevran. “Obscure, nerdish references.”

“Okay, but that wasn’t even a reference,” I point out.

She glares at me.

“He looks a lot like his character!” I say. “He has white ink tattoos, though.”

“Ah.” Zevran grins. “I should get a white ink tattoo…”

“I think it’s, like, a full-body tattoo,” I add.

“I have a very bizarre mental image of this man,” Morrigan states.

“Do not worry, Garrett! I will vouch for you.” Zevran winks at me. “Isabela has assuredme that Fenris is _very_ sexy.”

“Get a picture of him in _real life_ ,” Morrigan says. “Until then, this bizarre mental image of a tattoo-covered serial killer will remain.”

“Okay, I’m issuing a mandate,” I say. “No more serial killer jokes. Not one.”

“Aw, but your reaction to them is so adorable!” Zevran smiles; there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No! It isn’t adorable. It never was. It’s – Oh my god, the bard lady’s back!” I point at the door.

The lady with red hair and a _lute_ has walked in. She’s talking to a brown-haired woman standing next to her.  
  
The woman gives her a peck on the cheek, then darts out of the coffee shop.

“You’re lucky that she didn’t hear you say that,” Morrigan says.

“It’s a lute!” I exclaim.

“You’re being socially unacceptable.”

“Hey, guys!” Bethany’s suddenly next to us. She’s not wearing her apron anymore. “I’m free now! Let me hang out with you.” She pulls a chair over from a nearby empty table and takes a seat next to me. “Oh, hey, Leliana’s here!”

“Bethany…” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Is that woman a bard?”

“Garrett…” Bethany whispers back. “Stop being such a nerd.”

 

~

 

I drop Bethany back at her house.

Mother tries to guilt me into having dinner with her and the twins (“ _We haven’t eaten together as a family in so long_ ”), but I politely decline and manage to escape.

So, I’m driving back to my house and singing along to one of Beyoncé’s songs (I swapped playlists the second Bethany got out of my car). I’m hyped up on sugar, thanks to the excessive amount of hot chocolate that I’ve consumed.

I’m having a good time. A _great_ time. There’s this happy warmth in my chest.

In fact, I’m almost back at my house when I realize it.

 _I didn’t reply to Fenris’ text_.

The warm happiness in my chest is immediately replaced by ice-cold regret.

“Shit!” I exclaim. I stick one hand in my pocket and grab my phone, then remember that texting while driving is a _bad_ thing to do.

So I pull over.

I open the message Fenris sent me _two hours ago_.

Why am I such a mess?!

He might think that I’m ignoring him. He might think that I gave him the wrong number!

I take the best course of action.

I go into my Contacts and find Zevran’s name, then press “Call.”

“Hello?”

“Zevran? This is Zevran, right?!”

“Yes, Garrett. It is Zevran. _I_ am Zevran.” I can tell that he’s holding back a laugh… Ever since the Cousland incident, I’ve always been so wary whenever I call him.

“Zevran, I forgot to text Fenris back!”

He sighs. “Gare…”

“He texted me hours ago! What do I do?! Does he hate me now?”

“Let us take a nice, deep breath –”

“Oh my god, Fenris hates me!”

“Garrett. Deep breathing.”

“This is not the time to breathe!” I holler.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Gare,” Zevran says, “but breathing is a basic function of life.”

“What do I do _besides_ basic functions of life?!” I snap.

“I do not know. Start a new life. Change your name, get a new house… Make some new friends. Abandon your current romantic pursuits.”

“Zevran!”

“You _reply_ to him, you big lug,” Zevran says. “It is just a text.”

“It’s not just a text!” I pout. “It was the first text he ever sent me… And the first one I ever send _him_ will be an apology for being an absolute tool. Gragugh!” I lean back in my seat and gurgle some more.

“My condolences,” Zevran says. “Perhaps this was for the best? Not to state the obvious, but you _do_ have a tendency to, um…” He trails off.

“…A tendency to be too charming?” I suggest.

“No. How do I put this? You have a tendency to come on too strong.”

“I do _not_!” I huff.

“Men love it when you play hard to get,” Zevran insists. “Trust me! I would know.”

“Yeah right! You? Playing hard to get?” I roll my eyes.

“Oh, believe me. I have my ways.” He cackles. “Anyway… You were doing so well. It has been so long since you had a Garrett Moment. I am so proud of you! Such a valiant effort!”

“Stop.” I groan. I _do_ know what he means by ‘Garrett Moment,’ though. “So… What do I say?”

“I told you! Just apologize. Off-handedly. Play it cool. Use no excessive punctuation.”

_Off-handed. Cool. No excessive punctuation._

“Okay. Okay…” I take a deep breath.

“Aha! See? Breathing!” Zevran exclaims.

“Yes, I’m breathing.” I roll my eyes again. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“It will be fine, Gare! I will talk to you later.”

“Right. See you.” I hang up.

Then I go into my text messages.

 

 **Fenris** (5:17pm):  
hey. are you coming online tonight?

 

The text from earlier stares back at me. I weigh my options.

_HEY!! sorry, I totally didn’t see your text earlier!_

No. No, that is a blatant lie. I totally saw it earlier. I’m just a mess.

_HEY!! sorry, I forgot to reply earlier! I was busy!_

Better. But… I don’t want him to think that I was too busy for him.

_HEY!! sorry, I forgot to reply earlier! I was with my friends and they were harassing me a lot so I couldn’t reply to you and I’m really sorry about that._

Okay, no, that one’s just a disaster.

I grumble some more.

 

 

 **Garrett** (7:34pm):  
HEY!! sorry, I forgot to reply earlier! I was with my friends and they were being terrible.  
I’ll be online soon!

 

I used a lot of exclamation marks. I was also not off-handed… And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t cool, either.

Zevran doesn’t have to know.

I put my phone back in my pocket and get ready to resume the drive back to my house.

But then it vibrates.

I pull it back out…

 

 

 **Fenris** (7:34pm):  
it’s alright, don’t worry about it.  
do all of your friends enjoy watching you squirm?

 

 **Garrett** (7:34pm):  
Yeah, every single one! don’t you feel sorry for me??

 

 **Fenris** (7:35pm):  
hmm. not particularly.

 

 **Garrett** (7:35pm):  
):

 

 **Fenris** (7:35pm):  
come online as soon as you can. varric wants you.  
we’re in a video chat.

 

 

Oh, great. _Guild_ things. …I feel bad for thinking that, but I kind of wanted to do a few repeatable quests with Fenris.  _Alone_ with Fenris.

With Miles at my heels and a bag of chips at my side.

I’ve come so far. I _actually_ want to seek out one-on-one time with Fenris.

This is some real character development.

 

 

 **Garrett** (7:35pm):  
I’ll be there soon! Im almost home

 

 **Fenris** (7:35pm):  
good. see you soon, hawke.

 

 

The ice-cold regret evolves into The Flutter… It’s good to see that The Flutter is alive and well.

I put my phone back into my pocket.

I grin and grip the steering wheel for a minute or two, then drive off into the night…

Because I really, really need to get online.

 

~

 

“It’s about time, Garrett!”

I log into the video chat client and Merrill’s voice is the first thing I hear.

Her window loads up – she’s in neon-green pajamas, and her hair is in pigtails.

“Excuse me for being busy!” I retort. More windows load up… “Holy shit, it’s a miracle. Everyone’s online.”

“Wrong,” Anders mutters. He’s in a very wrinkled-looking suit and his hair is slicked back ( _I don’t want to know_ ). “Isabela’s not here.”

Oh. He’s right.

Chat is very much Isabela-less.

“Hello, Hawke,” Fenris says. He’s wearing a black turtleneck, along with a black beanie.

“Hey, Fenris,” I reply. My voice shakes a little – I need to cover that up – “Thanks for actually greeting me, unlike these other hooligans.”

“Shut up, Hawke,” Aveline says with a smirk.

“You know we love you.” Varric is busily tapping away at his phone.

“What’re you doing, Varric?”

“Trying to get in touch with Rivaini.” He sighs. “She’s been M.I.A. for a while.”

“Perhaps she’s busy with work,” Sebastian suggests.

“Isabela? Working?” I laugh.

“True.”

“I want to do a dungeon run,” Varric says. He puts his phone down. “I’ve got my eye on a rune – Bianca needs some attention.”

“Ooh! Yes!” Merrill does a little fist pump. “Where do you want to go?! The Deep Roads?”

“Veto!” I yell.

“Hawke just went there. His Deep Roads cooldown isn’t up yet.” Varric chuckles.

“Darn,” Merrill says. “I wanted to see the Broodmother.”

“She’s quite a sight to behold,” Fenris says.

“She’s very noisy. I like that!” Merrill smiles.

I hear a Miles-snort from under the desk. I glance at him; he wags his tail enthusiastically.

I gave his bedroom privileges back to him after the whole “boyfriend” misunderstanding. Luckily, he’s stayed away from the bed.

“Where else can we go?” I ask. I still hate dungeons, but I’m in the mood to play...

“There’s a few options,” Varric says. “Hang on, I pulled them up.” He swaps tabs and squints at his screen. “Let’s see… Dead Man’s Pass… The Sewers… Ooh, the Hunting Ground’s another one.”

“The Hunting Ground! The Varterral’s there!” Merrill beams. “Let’s go there!”

“That _thing_ has too many legs,” Anders grumbles.

“It’s hard to maintain aggro on it,” Aveline adds.

“I like it! It moves very quickly!” Merrill says.

“It _does_ move very quickly.” Sebastian nods.

“It also jumps around a lot… Like a spider, only not really.” Merrill clasps her hands together. “It’s fascinating! I wish it was real.”

“Okay, then I guess we’re heading to the Hunting Ground,” Varric says. “That’s fine with me. How about the rest of you?”

“Why not?” Aveline shrugs. “We have enough warriors. Keeping the Varterral in one spot shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“I’m fine with it!” I’m beginning to learn that Sebastian is essentially on-board with anything. It terrifies me.

“Whatever.” Anders is in a positively _foul_ mood.

“Sounds good to me,” Fenris remarks.

“Great,” Varric grins. “And… Hawke?”

“Oh, you know how I feel about dungeons.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m sure our resident elven cutie will keep you safe.”

No! Varric!

_No!_

“Isn’t that right, Merrill?”

 _Oh_.

“Of course!” Merrill chirps. She makes a little peace sign, which is adorable.

Varric is an evil, evil man. I thought he was talking about Fenris.

I know I’m red… But I can’t let them know. So I pose, dramatically, with one hand splayed over my forehead. I close my eyes. “Merrill, will you be my knight in shining armor?”

“I’m a mage, Garrett.”

“…Will you be my _mage_ in shining armor?”

“I wear light armor, so it doesn’t shine much…”

“Okay, forget it.” I let my hand drop. “I’m fine with it, though. Let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” Varric says, with an _evil_ little grin.

I’m way too embarrassed to look at Fenris, but I do it anyway.

I… Can’t read him. He seems completely neutral. Not smiling, but not frowning, either. Hmm.

“Alright, time to log in!” Merrill sings. “I’ll turn video off now!”

The windows fade to black and close. I can’t see their faces anymore.

“That always alarms me,” Sebastian says.

I laugh and click the MMO icon on my desktop.

 

~

 

“Varterral! Varterral! Varterral!” Merrill’s chanting. We’ve clustered outside of the Hunting Ground, in Sundermount.

The Hunting Ground is one of the few dungeons that I can _stand_. I don’t particularly care for it, and the Varterral is absolutely terrifying, but it doesn’t induce the same horror as the Bone Pit or the Deep Roads.

“Is everyone ready?” Aveline asks.

“Yep,” Varric replies. “Well, I am.”

“Hang on, I’m equipping my new staff…” Anders mutters.

“The one you got in the Deep Roads?” I huff. “The one that put us through absolute _hell_ to get?!”

“Yeah.”

I roll my eyes.

“It wasn’t a bad run,” Fenris says.

“Every Deep Roads run is a bad run,” I reply.

He chuckles.

“Uh… Hold up.” Varric sounds troubled. “What the…”

“What’s up, Varric?”

“Just got a PM. It’s mildly disconcerting.” Shit, Varric never thinks that _anything’s_ disconcerting. “Uh… You guys familiar with a guild called Nehraa Qun?”

“Ooh, Nehraa Qun was one of the beta tester guilds, wasn’t it? Chant of Light had a _lot_ of trouble with them,” Sebastian says. His character sits down.

“Yeah. They got a special character creation race for beta testing.” Anders folds his arms. “Even though they _technically_ tested a completely different MMO. No one knows why they get to leech off this one. Capitalist bullshit strikes again!”

“Are they the big, horny people?” Merrill asks. “Oh! Oh, no, not like that! Don’t laugh!”

I have to bite my lip. Yeah, I’m _that_ mature.

Fenris clears his throat. “Yes. The big, _horned_ people are called the Qunari.”

“Right. Of course! The Qunari.” Merrill nods vigorously.

“They’re _not_ a good crowd to be on bad terms with,” Aveline says, slowly. “Please, Varric. _Please_ tell me we’re not on bad terms with them.”

“Oh, no, nothing that simple. We’re on absolutely abysmal terms with them.” Varric starts laughing. “…Through association.”

Aveline groans. She sits down next to Sebastian. “What’s the damage _this_ time?”

“It’s awful. Really awful.”

“Is it something illegal?!” Merrill’s very enthusiastic about illegal things.

“Hang on, I’ll paste it in chat.” Varric fumbles around. “Uh, as a warning… This message? It’s terrifying.”

“I’ve probably seen worse,” Anders replies.

 

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : (Copy/Pasted, as promised):

ADDRESSED TO [ **siegeharder** ], ALLEGED COMMANDER OF [ **Wicked Grace** ].

IT HAS COME TO MY ATTENTION THAT ONE OF YOUR FORMER MEMBERS, [ **likebigboats69** ], IS IN THE UNLAWFUL POSSESSION OF A KEY [ **Nehraa Qun** ] ITEM.

THE ITEM IN QUESTION, [ **The Tome of Koslun** ], IS ONE-OF-A-KIND, AS YOU LIKELY KNOW.

THE THEFT OF [ **The Tome of Koslun** ] IS UNFORGIVEABLE.

BRING [ **The Tome of Koslun** ] TO [ **The Viscount’s Keep** ] IN [ **Kirkwall, The City of Chains** ], AND BE SPARED.

DO NOT QUESTION HOW WE KNOW OF [ **Wicked Grace** ]’S INVOLVEMENT IN THESE EVENTS.

[ **Nehraa Qun** ] SEES ALL.

ATAASH QUNARI!

THE ARISHOK [ **ARISHOK** ]

 

 

“Alright, I haven’t seen worse,” Anders says.

“Are they for real?” I’m gaping at the screen. “Are they for real, Miles?” I nudge Miles with my foot. He doesn’t budge. I think he’s asleep.

“That’s too much capitalization,” Fenris comments, off-handedly.

“Why… _Why_ did Isabela mess with a hardcore guild?” Aveline’s voice is muffled – I just _know_ she has her face in her hands right now. “Oh, I’m going to kick her arse. I’m going to kick it. I’m going to buy a plane ticket _right now_.”

“Should we head over to Kirkwall, then?” I ask.

“I’m going to buy a plane ticket. I’m on Travelocity.”

“Aveline, calm down.”

“The Viscount’s Keep is a PvP zone,” Sebastian says. “If we go there – _especially_ without their item – they will not let us leave without a fight.”

“So what?” Merrill hops in place. “I say we just ignore them! They sound pretentious and mean.”

“Also, I can’t go meet them,” Anders says. “I’m morally against Kirkwall.”

There’s a snort-like noise. I’m almost certain that it’s a Fenris-snort, but I don’t think anyone else picks up on that.

“And Isabela still hasn’t replied to anyone?” Fenris asks (yeah, he was definitely the snort-culprit. I don’t blame him, though. Anders’ Kirkwall boycott is _totally_ ridiculous).

“Nope,” Varric answers. He takes a seat next to Aveline.

It looks like Sebastian, Aveline and Varric are lined up by height. I’d point this out to them and laugh about it, but the general guild mood seems… Tense.

“Ugh, where is she?!” Anders grumbles.

“She has a life,” Fenris replies.

“Oh, what, and _I_ don’t?!” Anders snaps. “…Wait. Don’t answer that, you asshole.”

“I rest my case.”

Fenris and Anders are at it again.

“Maybe you should reply, Varric,” I say.

“I don’t think they’re looking for a reply, Hawke.” True.

“Are we not going to fight the Varterral tonight?” Merrill asks, disappointed.

“Don’t think so, Daisy,” Varric replies. “But… Well, how do you feel about fighting a Qunari? Or six?”

 

~

 

“I told you – I’m not going in!” Anders yells. He stomps his foot on the ground.

“Spare us the childish use of emoticons, Anders,” Fenris says.

“Shut it!” Anders stomps some more.

“Anders, if all hell breaks loose,” and all hell _will_ break loose, “we’ll need a healer.”

“Bet you wish that Merrill chose the Healer specialization now, huh, Hawke?”

“Anders, please shut up and come along with us,” Merrill says, very politely.

“I love Merrill!” I insist. “I love her, blood magic, demon pacts and all!”

“I’m going to kick Isabela’s arse,” Aveline says. She keeps saying that at random moments, for some reason.

“I can’t believe that this bickering little guild is about to face Nehraa Qun,” Sebastian says, with a light laugh.

“Wicked Grace is special,” Varric replies. “ _Very_ special.”

“ _Too_ special,” I add. “Honestly, I just want to get this over with.”

“Are you in a rush, Garrett?” Merrill asks.

“Not really. I just don’t like dealing with overly-entitled nerds. They’re just going to kick our asses.”

“I don’t know, Hawke,” Fenris says. “Nehraa Qun is a small guild. Not as small as Wicked Grace… But they’re small. We may stand a fighting chance.”

“Still. I just want to get it over with. It’ll be quick and painful, like taking off a Band-Aid.”

“Don’t be a loser, Hawke,” Anders says.

“Says the guy who’s too much of a coward to even meet with Nero Quan or whatever the name is!” I retort.

“It’s Nehraa Qun,” Sebastian says, but Anders is already talking over him.

“I’m not afraid of them! I’m morally against Kirkwall!” He hollers. “We’ve been over this!”

“Anders, it’s a _fictional_ city in a _fictional_ game with _fictional_ lore,” I say.

“You’re such a casual.”

“Anders, so help me, I will _drag_ you in there,” Aveline says. “Either you come with us or you start a new life because I will _not_ tolerate another member of this guild _screwing us over_. Understood?”

There’s a tense silence.

Miles snorts… Anders sighs.

“Fine. I’ll go into the _City of Chains_. Just this once,” he grumbles. “Ugh… This is _all_ Isabela’s fault…”

“I know. And that’s why I’m sending her dozens upon dozens of texts right now,” Aveline retorts.

“I’m sorry, Aveline, I didn’t quite catch that – did you say ‘texts’ or ‘threats’?” Sebastian asks.

“Honestly, both of those words work,” she replies.

“I’m vaguely annoyed and we haven’t even set foot in the Viscount’s Keep yet,” I say. “Nice job, team!”

Varric laughs at that – really loudly – so loudly that I almost miss Fenris’ quiet chuckle.

But I don’t miss it.

I swear, I get more hypersensitive to him with each passing second.

 

~

 

“I wish that I could just destroy this whole city,” Anders grumbles.

“Are you grumpy tonight, Anders? Do you want a hug?” Merrill edges towards him.

“I do _not_ want a hug!”

Too late. Merrill’s wrapped her arms around him. He groans.

One loading screen separates us from the cozy, laggy confines of Hightown and the tense PvP zone that is the Viscount’s Keep.

We’ve been formulating a battle strategy… Just in case. (Believe me, we’ve had the time. Kirkwall’s laggy as hell.)

Aveline’s in charge of tanking. Completely in charge. She’s even going to use random buff potions that we have, piled up in our guild storage. (Yes, we hoard things. Those potions are so old… We keep saying we’ll need them for something important. I think this qualifies as ‘something important.’)

Fenris is kind of a multi-purpose, back-up tank. He focuses on laying as much damage down as possible, mostly… But if Aveline goes down, he’ll be there.

I’m completely offense-focused. If, by some freak accident, Aveline _and_ Fenris fall, I’ll be the tank.

(That’d also be the point of no return. The point where we’re all objectively doomed.)

Varric and Sebastian are our ranged offense people. Bowmen, raining arrows down on anything that moves.

Merrill’s also in the “stay-far-away-yet-do-a-ton-of-damage” club. Not one to rely on Anders, she has a ton of old potions from the guild chest along with her own personal stock, which I didn’t know existed until today. Health regeneration’s important when you’re a blood mage.

And then there’s Anders. He’s the healer. He might throw something at someone if he has to.

Pretty standard plan of action, right? We’re not really about complex strategy. It’s not our forte.

Everyone already knows how to play their class (even me!), so…

“You guys ready?” Varric asks. We’re standing in front of a particularly daunting set of stairs. No other players are around… No witnesses.

“No. Not even a little. But, like I said… Quick and painful,” I reply.

“Well put, Hawke.” Varric pauses. “Here we go…”

He takes a step forward and vanishes… And we follow him.

I stare at the loading screen.

“Do you think I have time to grab some chips?” I ask.

“Shut the fuck up, Hawke,” Anders snaps.

“Seriously, I have a sour cream and onion craving right now.”

Aveline makes a noise that’s very growl-like in nature.

“See, Fenris? What’d I tell you? Hawke’s _totally_ a nervous snacker.” Dammit, Varric.

“It’s not nerves! I’m a chip connoisseur!”

The new scene loads up. “Viscount’s Keep” appears in white text across the screen.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but Viscount’s Keep is the major PvP area of the game. It’s basically a huge, open room, elaborately furnished… Red carpets, tall pillars, the works. Light streams down from the ceiling, and a throne looks down on us from the second floor.

There’s also a mob of players standing in the middle of the room.

“Holy shit.”

“Same, Varric,” I say.

I’ve seen Qunari players before, but only in isolation. All of them together like this? It’s more than a little intimidating. There’s at least 20 of them – and they’re all essentially the same character model… The MMO was supposed to implement the Qunari as a playable class, but budget cuts happened. Still, beta users who made Qunari characters got to keep them. (On a semi-related note, a future patch is supposed to implement them… Who knows?)

Most of the Qunari players joined Nehraa Qun. It’s a guild specifically for them – though I think there’s some other ones.

They’re massive… Towering figures, covered in lore-appropriate body paint, with huge horns.

One stands in the middle of them.

He has long white hair… Scary pauldrons… Gold bands attached onto his horns… I can tell that he’s their leader, even before I read the text above his head:

 

“THE ARISHOK [ **ARISHOK** ].”

 

I hear a click.

“Okay, who just took a screenshot of the man who’s about to kill us?!” Aveline sounds like an angry mother.

“I’m sorry, he just looks so cute!” Merrill... I’m not even a little bit surprised.

“We’re dead.” Anders is ever the optimist.

A message pops up in General Chat.

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : A WISE DECISION, [ **Wicked Grace** ].

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] SEES ALL. IF YOU ATTEMPTED TO FLEE, WE WOULD KNOW.

 

 

“Oh my god, he’s talking to us!” I say.

“Varric, say something!” Aveline’s frazzled.

“Why me?!” Varric asks.

“You’re our leader,” Sebastian answers.

“Oh, that’s just a title. I had the Sovereigns at the right time.”

“Be charming!” I holler. Miles’ ears perk up, and he stares at me.

“My character’s tall enough to reach that guy’s _knee_.”

Fenris sighs. “I’ll do it.”

 

 

 _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : arishokost. maaras shokra. anaan esaam qun.

 

 

“Oh my god! What is that?!”

“It’s Qunlat, Hawke.” Qunlat… The Qunari language.

“Why do you speak Qunlat?!” Like me, Anders is also freaking out.

“I don’t speak it. I know a few phrases. A Qunari guild once wanted me to join them,” Fenris says. “Not Nehraa Qun, though.”

Yet another guild that wanted Fenris and didn’t get him.

First Chant of Light, now this…

“That’s incredible!” I say.

“Thanks,” Fenris says. He laughs softly – almost nervously. My chest gets tight, and it is _so_ not the time for this…

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SURPRISING. I ASSUMED [ **Wicked Grace** ] WAS FILLED WITH MERE CASUALS.

 _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : we received your message and are here, as you requested.

 _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : however, we do not have the tome of koslun. the tome’s whereabouts are currently unknown.

 

 

“Right to the point, huh, Fenris?” Varric laughs.

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WHAT?!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] WAS TOLD THAT [ **Wicked Grace** ] IS IN POSESSION OF [ **The Tome of Koslun** ].

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : LIES WILL NOT WORK ON US, LITTLE ELF MAN.

 

 

“Little elf man,” Fenris repeats, incredulously.

Naturally, I lose my shit. I can’t stop laughing…

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WHY DOES YOUR LEADER NOT SPEAK?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : IS HE A COWARD?

 

 

“Is he _baiting_ me?” Varric chuckles.

 

 

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Are you trying to bait me, Mr. Arishok, sir?

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Well, I’ll be damned.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Here, I have another question for you: Why isn’t *your* guild speaking?

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : I know they’re not cowards. ;)

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : THEY DO NOT NEED TO SPEAK.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I AM THEIR VOICE.

 

 

“That’s quite creepy,” Merrill muses.

“Agreed, Daisy,” Varric replies.

 

 

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Look, hear us out. We don’t have your fancy item.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : We didn’t even know about Isabela’s (likebigboats69’s) involvement in this whole thing. She’s not even a member of Wicked Grace right now.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : We’ll get in touch with her ASAP and let you know how that turns out, ‘kay?

 

 

Not even a full second passes – as soon as Varric types that, all of the members of Nehraa Qun (except the Arishok) immediately draw their weapons.

“Fuck,” Sebastian says.

“You’re a priest! Are you allowed to curse?!” Merrill’s aghast.

“Nice job, Varric,” Aveline says.

“Whoops.” Varric laughs.

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : UNACCEPTABLE.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE MUST REGAIN ACCESS TO [ **The Tome of Koslun** ].

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE WILL TAKE IT BY FORCE IF NECESSARY.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Alright. I think you’re missing the issue, here.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : We don’t have anything for you to take.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Believe me. We don’t have your tome.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : VERY WELL THEN.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE SHALL ENGAGE IN GUILD VS GUILD COMBAT.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE WILL SHOW THESE FOOLS THE CONESEQUENCES OF LYING TO [ **Nehraa Qun** ].

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ok wow yeah NOT NECESSARY HELLOOOO

 

 

I gasp. “It’s Isabela!”

“That _harpy_!” Aveline shrieks. She immediately turns towards the Keep’s entrance – where Isabela’s standing – and unsheathes her sword.

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU! WENCH!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : haha yaaa hi

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : sry was gettin ur shitty ass tomb back from the shits that totally lied 2 u

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : 4 such an elite guild nehraa qun can be lied 2 real easily tbh. ur gullible

 

 

“I’m whispering her right now! No one else whisper her!” I yell.

 

 

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : WTF Isabela!

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : LOL IM SORRY. SURPRISE!

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : GO IN THE VOICE CHAT RIGHT NOW.

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : noooo i dont wanna be yelled attttttt

 

 

“Aveline, don’t yell at Isabela yet,” I say.

Aveline mutters something under her breath.

 

 

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Aveline said she wont yell at you!

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : I CAN TELL THAT UR LYING THRU UR TYPED WORDS.

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : THATS HOW BAD U ARE AT LYING >:(

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i’ll go on soon + tell u guys everything ok

[W] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lets just deal w these asshole horny ppl lol

[W] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Fine!

 

 

I tab back into General Chat.

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU FOOLISH WOMAN.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] IS NOT GULLIBLE.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE ARE THE OPPOSITE OF GULLIBLE.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE ARE ASTUTE.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : o ok is that why I have the [ **The Tome of Koslun** ] rn? and not u lol

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : omg i typed 1 extra ‘the’ oops

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : EBOST ISSALA!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : wat

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : thats not how u spell ‘isabela’

 

 

“Ebost issala means ‘Return to dust,’” Fenris says. “In other words, he wants to kill her.”

 

 

 _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Oh hell no. If anyone’s going to kill her, it’s me.

 

 

“Aveline, you’re cool,” I say.

She grumbles some more things that I can’t understand.

 

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Hold up.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Before anyone dies… How about we make this interesting? From a lore standpoint, I mean.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Typically, don’t guilds have one-on-one matches for this sort of shit?

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : You know… Declaring champions. All of that. PvP at its most pretentious.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Why don’t we do that for the Tome?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : HAHAHAHAHA!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU BELIEVE THAT YOU, [ **siegeharder** ], COULD STAND UP TO ME, THE [ **ARISHOK** ], LEADER OF THE MIGHTY [ **Nehraa Qun** ]?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : THAT IS AMUSING!

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : No, I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell against you, Mr. Arishok.

 _Varric_ [ **siegeharder** ]: I mean, I’m a ranged class, right? Wouldn’t be fair.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : I *do* think that one of my members could take you on, though.

 

 

“Varric…” Aveline takes a deep breath. “Let me do this.”

“Hang on, Red,” Varric replies. “I’ve got an _Operation_ to do.”

…What?

 

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : HAHAHA!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : AND WHO WOULD THAT BE?

 

 

I’m pretty sure that all of the blood in my body has turned into ice.

 

 

 _Varric_ [ **siegeharder** ]: Why, [ **dragonhawke** ], of course.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot beta'd this chapter yet again! she braved great change in order to do so, in the form of computer updates and skype being a massive tool. regardless, mary continues to be the best beta ever. offer her your sincerest thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

I panic easily. Very easily. I’ve always been like this.

Back in college, Cullen would make fun of me a lot. But… As it turned out, he also cheated on me a lot. So… The panics I flung myself into concerning his late nights out and drinking habits were very much valid.

Before that? Carver. God, Carver. He put a massive plastic spider under my bed covers once. My leg brushed against it while I was laying in there after a hard day at high school… I turned on the light and screamed so loudly that Mother ran into my room, armed with a broom and screaming various death threats (apparently she thought I was being mauled to death. I honestly feel a degree of compassion towards anyone who dares to hurt one of Mother Hawke’s children).

Anyway, yeah. I panicked, and also developed a routine of meticulously examining my bed every night... For massive spiders of the non-plastic variety.

Honestly, it’s not a bad routine. I’m surprised that I even survived the ten-year-old Carver experience.

And, well, we all know my panic habits of the present day…

The point I’m making here is that I panic easily, but whenever I _do_ panic, I have every reason to.

So, when I see those words?

Those little, white words?

 

 _Varric_ [ **siegeharder** ]: Why, [ **dragonhawke** ], of course.

 

You bet your ass I start to panic.

“What,” I say. Yeah, it’s not a question. It’s just… What.

“What?!” Someone else is doing the questioning. My mind is blank. I cannot reliably detect auditory information anymore.

“Trust me. This is for the best.”

Where am I?

“I think Varric’s finally lost it.”

“You can do it, Garrett!” Ah, a distinctly Scottish accent.

That’s Sebastian.

Right. Okay.

I’m here. I’m playing an increasingly overrated MMO.

And…

Varric’s determined to get me killed in the _worst_ possible way.

“I don’t want to!” I yell.

“Varric…” Aveline sighs. “Not that I don’t think he’s capable, but… Hawke can’t do a dungeon without crying at least once.”

“I don’t cry!” I yell some more.

“You do,” Fenris says. “You cried when we were in the Deep Roads.”

“The Ogre picked me up, okay?! And he does _not_ count!” I clutch my chest. “Oh my god. I can see the light. Am I hallucinating?”

“I believe in Hawke,” Varric says. “He’s strong now.”

“Guys, I think I’m hallucinating!”

“Calm down, Garrett.” Merrill giggles. “Do you want me to fight the Arishok instead?!”

“He’d snap a mage in half,” Fenris says.

“Take that back right now!” Anders snaps.

“…He’d snap a mage in half,” Fenris repeats.

“Do you wanna _go_?!” Great, Anders is _threatening_ him now…

“I don’t want to _go_ at all, actually,” Fenris replies. Sebastian laughs.

“Are any of you even paying attention to Chat?” Aveline asks.

I glance down at the dreaded window.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : FINE.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : AND I, THE [ **ARISHOK** ], SHALL BE MY OWN CHAMPION.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lol is that allowed

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : OF COURSE IT IS ALLOWED!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ok but thats totally sad

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : do u have friends

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : ARE YOU BLIND, WENCH? DO YOU NOT SEE THE ALMIGHTY FORCES OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ] STANDING BEHIND ME?

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : o i thought they were npcs lol???

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : NOT ONLY ARE YOU A CHEATING FOOL, WENCH. YOU ARE ALSO BLIND! HAHA!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : dont mock blind ppl u jackass

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : wtf is ur problem

 

“Is she buying us time?” Merrill wonders out loud.

“Maybe. She might be messing with them.” Varric pauses. “Actually, she’s probably doing both.”

“It’s a win-win situation for her,” Sebastian adds.

“I’m going to kill her,” Aveline mutters.

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : y arent ur friends speakin

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I AM THE VOICE OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ].

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : are they afk

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : THE MEMBERS OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ] ARE NOT [ **Away from Keyboard** ]!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : THE MEMBERS OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ] ARE BORING AND NEVER TALK!!!!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SILENCE! DO NOT IMITATE MY MANNERISMS!

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Do I dare interrupt this highly informative debate?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] IS NOT A CASUAL GUILD. [ **Nehraa Qun** ] OFFERS AN IMMERSIVE ROLE-PLAYING EXPERIENCE, WITH HIGHLY EXCLUSIVE MEMBERSHIP OPPORTUNITIES OFFERED TO NONE OTHER THAN THE [ **Qunari** ] RACE. AS SUCH, [ **Nehraa Qun** ] FOLLOWS LORE. THIS IS NOT A GAME.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : this IS a game tho …???

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Nice sales pitch, Arishok.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU FRUSTRATE ME.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : :)

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Wicked Grace** ] SHALL FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF MOCKING US!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WHY DOES YOUR CHAMPION NOT SPEAK?

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Good question.

 

“Hawke, are you still with us?”

“This is just a bad dream,” I say. “It’s a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and it’s going to be a huge relief.”

“Garrett…” Aveline is very sympathetic.

“I’ll log on and I’ll say, hey, guys, I had the worst dream! Varric put the fate of the guild on my shoulders! Could you believe –“

“Hawke.” I like that voice. “It’s not a big deal.” It’s a Fenris voice. Fenris.

I’m being a coward.

In front of Fenris.

My Whisper tab in the chat box flashes.

 

 _[W]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : You’re going to win.

 _[W]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : You’re going to go in there, you’re going to kick ass, and you’re going to get even closer to accessing the Elf’s pants.

 

I splutter.

 

 _[W]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Trust me. When have I ever let you down?

 

“Only constantly!” I say, out loud.

Varric laughs. “Sorry, I’m Whispering him.”

“I can’t believe it. We’re doomed,” Anders states.

“I can fight him instead,” Fenris says.

Oh, no.

That’s not what I want at all.

I’m not a coward.

I blink rapidly. “I…”

I mean, my track record is shaky.

I mess up constantly.

I cry in dungeons.

I’m awkward in just about every conceivable way…

But I’m not a coward. I’m not a pansy.

I used to be one. Totally.

But… Not anymore.

Is it pathetic that an increasingly overrated MMORPG is what triggered this realization in me?

Well, I don’t care.

A few weeks ago, I couldn’t even take listening to Fenris’ voice… Look at me now.

“I can do this,” I say.

“Yippee!” Merrill exclaims.

Fenris taught me how to play… I can _play_. Even if I lose… Who cares? It’s just a shitty Tome, anyway. We don’t even need it… But I _do_ want to defend the guild’s honor. (Or, rather, what’s left of it.)

“I can feel the adrenaline!” I holler. Miles creeps out from under the desk and sits by my side, staring intensely at the computer screen.

“Then how about we put that adrenaline to good use?” Varric asks; I can _hear_ the smirk in his words.

I unsheathe my sword.

It’s low-levelled, but –

“Wait. I’ll give you something to fight with,” Fenris says.

“You don’t have to! I have… This… Thing…” It’s a greatsword that I looted off some random Templar enemy. It’s also alarmingly weak.

I glance at the chat box, which has way too much activity…

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : ARE YOU BACKING OUT NOW?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : TELL ME, [ **dragonhawke** ].

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : HESITATION SHALL BE YOUR DOWNFALL.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Ok will you shut up for like one second?

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lmfao

 

“Holy shit!” Anders starts laughing.

“I can’t hear myself think!” There’s just too much capitalization.

“I can’t let you fight the Arishok with that,” Fenris says. “It puts him at an unfair advantage. I have an extra greatsword.”

“You really don’t have to!” I mean, I’m probably going to get my ass kicked either way…

Too late. A trade request window pops up.

“Dammit, Fenris,” I say. He chuckles.

“Ooh, what did you get? What did you get?!” Merrill’s way too excited…

It’s a greatsword called “Red Grace.”

“Fenris, I can’t -- I haven’t used a proper weapon in… Forever,” I say, as I accept the trade.

“It’s not the best,” he says, quickly. “I… Came across it. In a dungeon. The name reminded me of Wicked Grace, and of… You…” He trails off. Is he embarrassed?

Varric makes a suspiciously affirmative noise.

I equip Red Grace, and I don’t think I’ll be unequipping it any time soon.

Or ever, really.

“Thank goodness! Now Garrett might stand a fighting chance!” Merrill chirps.

“He might,” Fenris says wryly, and I laugh.

“Let’s not keep this _lovely_ man waiting much longer,” Aveline adds. “He’s getting downright hostile in Chat, and while I enjoy seeing him squirm, I don’t want him to kill Isabela.”

“Because _you_ want to kill her, right, Aveline?” Sebastian chuckles.

“Right.”

I unsheathe my _new_ sword.

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ooo nice sword there hawkey ;)

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Thanks!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : PSH. EVEN THE LOWEST-RANKING MEMBER OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ] WIELDS A BLADE BETTER-SUITED TO BATTLE.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I don’t like you.

 

“I want to kill him,” I say, because I do.

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Anders says – and, no, he’s not being sarcastic.

“Make him cry, Garrett,” Merrill says.

“I will.” I move past Varric so that I’m facing the Arishok.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : THE SENTIMENT IS MUTUAL.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : oh I’ll bet.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : :O

 

Isabela runs up to the rest of Wicked Grace – she was hovering in the doorway before. Varric shuffles over to them, as well.

I glance over at Miles. He’s sitting, still staring at the computer screen. _He knows_. Or, you know… The bright light is fascinating to him.

But I think he knows, personally.

I glance back at the game. My body’s starting to feel unnaturally hot…

“Well, Hawke… Are you ready?” Varric asks.

“No. I mean, yeah! Wait, no!”

“Hawke.”

“I don’t have any chips!”

“Too bad,” Anders says. He sounds way too smug.

“Fine!” I huff. “If I lose, now you know why.”

“If you lose it’ll be for another reason, I’m sure,” Aveline says.

Varric sighs. “I’m going to just get this started.”

 

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Guess it’s time for you two to duke it out, then.

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Have fun, you wild kids.

 

“Kick some ass, Hawke,” Varric says.

“Oh, I will,” I say. “I’ll kick tons of ass.”

“Major ass?” Anders asks.

“Major ass. So much ass.”

I can hear something that sounds like muffled laughter, and, once again, I’m damn sure that Fenris is the culprit. I keep quiet about it, though.

 

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Lets get on with it then.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : MEMBERS OF [ **Wicked Grace** ], YOU ARE BLIND.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I WILL MAKE YOU SEE!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : what did i say abt the blind jokes -_-

 

White text appears across my screen:

 

 _The Arishok_ [ **ARISHOK** ] has issued a PvP Challenge!

Do you accept?  
>Yes       No

 

I stare at it.

“He issued a challenge,” I say.

“That’s how PvP works, yes,” Anders says.

“What do I do?!”

“You _accept_ it, Hawke.”

“He’ll attack me if I accept it,” I point out. “I should come up with a plan of action.”

“Hawke…” Sebastian laughs. “Just accept it.”

“I need a plan of action!” I yell. Miles snaps out of his weird computer-trance and bounds out of the room. “No, Miles! No!”

I needed him. I needed him, and now he’s gone…

“Did Miles abandon you again?” Fenris asks.

“It keeps happening!” I wail.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : ARE YOU STALLING, [ **dragonhawke** ]?!

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Im totally not

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU ARE STALLING!

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : IM NOT! I’M TRYING TO GET COMFORTABLE

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I COMMAND YOU TO STOP STALLING!

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Only aveline can command me

 

“Damn right,” Aveline says.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU ARE STALLING.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I never stall!  
  
_THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT NOW.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : doing what?

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : STALLING.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I told you im not!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : ……………………

 

“That’s our Hawke,” Varric says, affectionately.

“Hawke, press Backspace,” Anders says.

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. It’ll help you out with tactics.”

Woah, I never knew that. I press Backspace.

 

 _Garrett_ [ **dragonhawke** ] has accepted a PvP Challenge!

 

“WHAT?!”

It happens so quickly.

The Arishok charges across the room and _right into me_. My hands aren’t even positioned over my Skill keys.

I scream.

It’s not a shout. It’s not a yell.

It’s a scream.

If Mother was in my house right now, she’d come in here with a broom. It was that kind of scream.

Miles starts barking from some corner of the house.

Anders yelps. Aveline swears. Varric starts laughing.

“Fuck you, Anders!” I leap off the floor and sprint off towards the opposing wall. Meanwhile, the Arishok’s getting ready to charge again…

“You’re welcome,” Anders replies.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” The Arishok charges past me – yeah, I manage to dodge this time – and slams into the wall that I was _just_ pressed up against. “No! Nope!”

I just keep running. I run around pillars. I’m so glad that these pillars exist.

The Arishok chases after me. He’s way faster than I thought he’d be… I assumed that he was a tank class, but, nope. He’s definitely a rogue.

“You might want to try hitting him, Hawke,” Fenris says.

“I can’t!” I wail. The Arishok makes this _lunging_ motion, and I scream again and scramble over to another wall.

I mean, I’m dodging the hits… So…

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : STOP RUNNING, COWRAD!

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : u made a typo

 

 _“_ Go, Hawke, go!” Varric chants.

“Okay! Right! Not a coward! Right!” I turn towards the Arishok…

 

 _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Sloppy, Arishok. Very sloppy. I expected more from you.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : BE QUIET, RUDE DWARF MAN.

 

…And I charge at him, sending Red Grace into his chest.

“Reaper,” Fenris mutters. “I didn’t know that you unlocked the upgrade. Very good.”

“Thanks!” I squeak.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : A CHEAP MOVE, [ **dragonhawke** ]!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU WILL PAY!

 

I follow up with my favorite spin attack… The one I saw Fenris use, weeks ago.

He lurches back and then tries that lunge attack again, but I dodge it and start sprinting around yet another pillar.

“You’re so good at running away, Hawke!” Merrill’s very sincere. She’s so sincere that it stings a bit.

“Let’s call it _kiting_ , Daisy,” Varric says.

“ _Kiting_!” I repeat. “I like the sound of that. I like kites.” Dad would take Carver, Bethany and I out to fly this one kite we had. It looked like a bird. He said it was because we’re _Hawkes_ , like… Hawks.

“Hawke –“ Fenris says, but it’s too late.

One of the Arishok’s swords is sticking _right through my back_.

I’m screaming.

Both in the game and in real life.

To make matters worse, he lifts me up, too. I’m bleeding all over the place.

“Why?!” I yell. “Why?!”

 

 _Garrett_ [ **dragonhawke** ]: OVERKILL.

 

“It won’t kill you, Garrett,” Aveline says.

“I don’t care!” Well, I do… But… You know. “If that happened in real life, I’d be pretty dead.”

“It didn’t happen in real life, though,” Sebastian says.

“That’s irrelevant.”

The Arishok throws me back onto the floor, and I’m momentarily stunned.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : HA!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SEE? THE THREATS OF [ **Nehraa Qun** ] ARE NOT EMPTY!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : OUR DUTIES ARE LAW!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SUCH IS THE WAY OF [ **The Qun** ]!

 

I can tell that he’s still typing, so I seize the opportunity. I slam into him (Reaper again, of course), and he staggers back.

I let out a particularly evil-sounding cackle.

He’s stunned momentarily – I manage to activate two passive skills.

“You’re such a dirty fighter,” Merrill says. “I like that.”

“Hey, fighting this guy was _not_ my idea!” I’m _kiting_ (I love that word) again.

“You’re acting as if you’re a ranged class,” Aveline says, warily.

“I’d like to see you do better!” I retort.

“I probably could,” she replies.

“Your attacks are doing quite a lot of damage, Hawke. Keep it up!” Sebastian’s such a pure soul.

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : u go hawkey

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : fightin like a tru champ >:D

 

I’m glad that she’s here.

I missed Isabela, even though it’s only been two days.

Like I said earlier, I hate when she’s not a member of Wicked Grace, even though she’s always here in spirit.

The Arishok swings one of his swords at my head; I barely manage to dodge it. My health’s down to its half mark, which is scary, since he’s really only hit me a few times.

I eye the timer.

“Do you think I could keep this up for an hour?” I wonder out loud.

“Your health is lower than his, so, no,” Fenris replies. Damn. “He’s a rogue, though, so he should be a bit more fragile than you… Though he seems to be running an unusually tanky build.”

“Just like how Hawke’s running an unusually offensive build,” Varric remarks. “It’s great how these things work out, huh?”

“What if he whips out a bow and starts shooting arrows at Hawke?” Merrill asks.

“...That’s not allowed,” I say.

“It’s allowed,” Varric replies. “I don’t think he would, though.”

We all go quiet, as if we’re waiting for him to.

I’m still scrambling around. I keep alternating pillars. The Arishok must be so mad at me. “What if I tried baiting him again?”

Aveline groans.

I turn around and slam my sword into him. Surprise attacks! They’re the way to go. He swings his sword at me, too, but I avoid the blow and manage to dash off to another corner of the room.

“Nice… I think,” Anders says.

“I’m doing it!” I exclaim. Feeling gutsy, I activate another passive ability and charge over to the Arishok. The ability – Barrage – lets me land more hits than usual...

It’s a bit easier to think of him as a Boss, rather than a weirdly hardcore gamer who one of my best friends stole from.

Anyway, I just follow the skill order that Fenris taught me.

It whittles his health down. Fast . Past the half mark.

Varric whistles. Merrill cheers. I’m in the zone.

The Arishok manages to hit me, too, but it’s no big deal, even though Barrage has me a little bit more susceptible to enemy attacks. If he _impaled_ me, that’d be a different story…

Anyway, we keep that up for a while. I hit hard ; way harder than I was at the start of the fight. Though my attacks are doing a lot of damage, he’s scarily bulky.

According to the timer, 15 more minutes have passed and he’s still standing.

“Hang in there, Hawkey,” Anders says monotonously.

“Hey! You sound distracted! What’re you doing?!” I yell. “Pay attention! I’m fighting to the death over here!”

“Right, well, I’m trying to win a bid war on eBay over _here_ ,” Anders replies.

“Anders!”

“Watch it, Garrett!” Merrill squeaks. I barely manage to leap out of the way of the Arishok’s blades.

“Fucking hell!” I exclaim.

“You’re almost there, Hawke. You only need to hit him a few more times,” Fenris says, ever-so-calmly.

Right… I just need to hit him a few more times. Just a few.

Great .

Miles enters the room. I can hear him panting.

“Miles!” I yell. “Miles is back!”

He barks.

His presence gives me a burst of confidence.

Just as the Arishok thrusts his sword forward, in an attempt to impale me, I leap into the air and bring Red Grace down on him.

And I’m pretty sure that I land a Critical Hit, because he falls.

His little bar of health? It has no red in it anymore. It’s dark and empty. The remainder just…

Went away.

He falls, and a white message appears across the screen.

 

 _Garrett_ [ **dragonhawke** ] emerges victorious!

 

“Did I win?”

“Yes, Hawke!” Merrill’s laughing. “Congratulations! You won!”

Everyone’s congratulating me at once, some more loudly than others (Merrill has burst into song), and it’s wonderful, but… I hear one particular voice. One deep, low, sharp, quiet voice, with a distinct accent that’s become so familiar to me...

“Well done, Hawke.”

_Oh my god._

Isabela is dancing.

And… I haven’t even looked at Chat yet. I can only imagine the chaos that must be ensuing…

“I… I won…” I say. “I won!” I can’t believe it.

The Arishok stands up. PvP mode has been disengaged, since I won.

I head back over to where the rest of Wicked Grace is standing, and Nehraa Qun swarms over to the Arishok.

“Does this mean that we get to keep the Tome?” Merrill asks.

“I’m not sure…” My voice trails off.

“Do we even _want_ the Tome?” Good point, Aveline.

“It’s ours, technically,” Varric says. “Those were the terms. Hang on. Let’s consult Riviani. I’m sending her a new Guild invite.”

A few seconds pass. A notification appears:

 

 _Isabela [_   **likebigboats69** _] has been added to [_ **Wicked Grace** _]._

 

I’m still too scared to check the General Chatbox… I’m pointedly averting my eyes.

I _do_ swap tabs to Guild Chat, though.

 

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Welcome back, Riviani. ;)

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : ISABELAAAAAA

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i cant believe it

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i left 4 like 2 mins and durin that time hawke became 1000% total badass material ?????

[WG] _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : You call THAT badass?

 

“Shut up, Anders!”

 

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : SHUT UP ANDERS!!!

 

He just laughs. Typical!

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : it was sooo badass

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : what do u think fenris, was it badass

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : it was badass, yeah.

 

…And, of course, I’m bright red, and smiling a bit too much.

 _I did it_.

My Whisper tab flashes. I click on it (still faithfully ignoring General chat).

 

 _[W]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Like I said:

 _[W]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : One step closer to accessing the Elf’s pants.

 

I gurgle.

Everyone ignores me, but I just _know_ that Varric’s grinning.

I’m not even dignifying that with a response.

I tab back to Guild chat.

 

[WG] _Sebastian_ _[_ **exiledprince** _]_ : So, what should we do with the Tome of Koslun?

[WG] _Sebastian_ _[_ **exiledprince** _]_ : Do we need it?

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : mmmmmeh

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i only got it cos some assholes in another guild asked 4 it

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : and i owed them -____-

 _[WG]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Riviani! Why don’t you ever get *us* one-of-a-kind, incredibly rare items? ):

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lol since when has wg ever even wanted any o that shit

 _[WG]_ _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Um. Only forever.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : wg stands for ‘wicked grace’ not ‘anders’ u absolute trash

 _[WG]_ _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Harsh!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lol ;)

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : I GIVE U PLENTY! u get my loyalty and thats the rarest treasure of all

 _[WG]_ _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Awww. You’re gonna make me cry, Riviani.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : we all know that im the real treasure

[WG] _Sebastian_ _[_ **exiledprince** _]_ : …So, do we need the Tome, or…?

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Let’s just give it back. We’ll never use it.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Seems like it’s more drama than it’s worth.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : tru

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ive been gettin shit abt this for WEEKS its time to move the fuck on

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : WAIT!!! So you mean I fought that big guy for nothing???

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : THANKS, GUYS.

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : It was very impressive, Garrett!!! :^D

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : It wasn’t for nothgign! :^O

[WG] _Merrill_ _[_ **bloodydaisies** _]_ : *Nothing

[WG] _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Thanks, merrill. T_T

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : ha.

 

 _Ha_.

 

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : so, are we giving it back, then?

[WG] _Sebastian_ _[_ **exiledprince** _]_ : That seems like the best course of action. :-)

 _[WG]_ _Anders_ _[_ **magerightsactivist** _]_ : Right, this wasn’t a waste of time at all!

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : shhhhh ok goin 2 gen chat

 

I take a deep breath and tab over to General chat.

It’s…

Completely silent, surprisingly.

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : hiii ok so that was a gr8 match right??

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Yeah!

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : Good fight, Arishok.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU RAN.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : YOU RAN THE ENTIRE TIME.

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I believe the proper term is ‘kiting’

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : i KITED the entire time.

 

Fenris laughs.

And I laugh, too.

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ANYWAY we dont need the [ **The Tome of Koslun** ]

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : fck theres the extra ‘the’ again lol

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : but ya we dont need it so u can have it back or w/e

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : NO.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] HONORS THE LOSS IT HAS SUSTAINED.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : SUCH IS THE WAY OF [ **the Qun** ].

 _Varric [ **siegeharder** ]_: Hawke ran the entire time, though.

 _Varric [ **siegeharder** ]_: Sorry, *kited.

 

“Dammit, Varric!”

“Sorry, Hawke.” Varric chuckles. “You know me. I’m a real casual.”

“Really?” Merrill’s mystified.

“I’m just about as casual as they come, Daisy,” Varric states.

Merrill gasps. “Are you being sarcastic?! Oh, I’m so bad at telling…”

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : A LOSS IS A LOSS.

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Then how about a trade?

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : You can take your tome if you give us something in exchange for it.

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : What does your precious Qun say about a trade between equals? Seems fair to me.

 

“They’re talking about it,” Sebastian murmurs.

“How do you think it’ll go?” I ask.

“It could go either way,” Fenris replies. “From a more lore-appropriate standpoint, such a proposal would not work. But, that being said, not even the most hardcore of guilds stick to lore when this sort of thing happens.”

“Even Chant of Light had its moments,” Sebastian adds with a sigh. “Can’t say I miss them.”

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : VERY WELL.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WE HAVE DISCUSSED THIS OPTION AND JUDGE IT SATISFACTORY.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : FOR [ **The Tome of Koslun** ], [ **Nehraa Qun** ] OFFERS [ **The Mantle** ].

 

Varric whistles. “That’s a damn fair match.”

“The Mantle gives a custom title, but only if you use it,” Sebastian says.

“Why haven’t they used it?” Merrill asks.

“Much like the Tome, it’s one-of-a-kind,” Fenris replies. “Supposedly, it’s more valuable if it’s left unused. The value grows over time.”

 

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : yesyesyesyYES

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] AWAITS THE APPROVAL OF [ **Wicked Grace** ]’S LEADER.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : -_-

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Sorry, Riviani. :P

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : We accept.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lets do this thang i have the tome right here

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] WILL ONLY TRADE WITH [ **Wicked Grace** ]’S LEADER.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : -_______-

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Again, my deepest, most sincere apologies, Riviani.

 _Varric [_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Send me the tome and I’ll trade it over to Nehraa Qun.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : k

 

“What’s the title?” I ask. “The one attached to that Mantle thing, I mean.”

“Ooh, no, no one spoil it!” Merrill yells. “We’ll know soon enough!”

“Okay, I have the Tome. Time to hand it over.” Varric sighs. “You know, this makes me wonder just how much valuable shit Riviani has stored away.”

“I’m going –”

“— To kill her. We know, Aveline,” Anders says.

“How’s the bid war going?” I ask.

“I’m going to win,” Anders says, determined.

“Of course you are,” Fenris replies.

Anders grumbles.

“Alright, I got it,” Varric says. “Damn! It’s years old. Three years old, to be precise.”

“I’ll never understand hardcore guilds,” I say.

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : FIGHTING YOU WAS AN EXPERIENCE, [ **dragonhawke** ].

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : IF OUR BLADES CROSS AGAIN, THE OUTCOME WILL BE DIFFERENT.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I CAN SAY THIS WITH COMPLETE CERTAINTY.

 

“Is he threatening me?! At a time like this?” I sigh.

 

 _Garrett_ _[_ **dragonhawke** _]_ : I’d like to see you try!!!!

 

“Where’s the scared little Garrett I once knew?” Varric muses.

“Perhaps he’ll say that he wants to go into the Deep Roads later,” Fenris adds.

“That’s pushing it!” I laugh. “He’s just so holier-than-thou.”

 

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : HA.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : I HAVE A GROWING LACK OF DISGUST FOR YOU, HUMAN.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : [ **Nehraa Qun** ] ACKNOWLEDGES THE OUTCOME OF THIS BATTLE, AND DEEMS [ **Wicked Grace** ] A WORTHY RIVAL.

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : WITH THAT, WE SHALL TAKE OUR LEAVE.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : lol bye

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : AND, YOU! [ **likebigboats69** ]!

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : NEXT TIME YOU DECIDE TO TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS, WE WILL FIND YOU, AND YOU WILL NOT HAVE YOUR PRECIOUS GUILD TO HIDE BEHIND.

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : i wasnt hiding tho i was right here the whole time

 _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : luv u guys too tho ;)

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : …

 _THE ARISHOK_ _[_ **ARISHOK** _]_ : GOODBYE.

 

Before we can even react to that, Nehraa Qun is enveloped in a cloud of light-purple smoke. When it dissipates, they’re gone… Every last one of them.

“Holy shit,” I say.

“I agree,” Sebastian replies.

The Guild chat tab flashes.

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : OK I SAY THAT HAWKE GETS THE MANTLE COS HE KICKED SOME HORNY ASS TODAY ;))

[WG] _Fenris_ _[_ **Fenris** _]_ : i agree.

 

“Woah. What? No! I? No!” It’s too important for me!

“You’re the one who worked for it, Hawke,” Fenris points out.

“It’s all yours, Hawke,” Varric says. “You have no say in this. What do you guys think?”

“It should go to Garrett, yes,” Sebastian says. “He brought the Arishok down, after all!”

“Yes, give it to him! And _use_ it, Garrett! I want to see what it is!” Merrill’s… Very enthusiastic.

“Your hard work deserves a reward,” Aveline says.

I feel so emotional… I love these people so much. They’ve been with me every step of the way…

“Yes! I won!” Anders cheers.

…And, of course, the moment’s ruined.

“Thanks, Anders,” I say.

“Oh, wait, what? What’s going on? I won the bid war!”

“We’re giving Hawke the Mantle,” Varric says.

“Ah. Sure, yeah. I mean, you were the one being chased by the Arishok. Narrowly avoiding death or whatever.”

“Exactly,” Varric says.

 

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : ummm hello

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : Sorry, Riviani. We were discussing stuff in Voice Chat.

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : You’d know that if you re-joined, you lout.

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : I HAVENT REJOINED THE CHAT BC IM SCARED OF YOU!!!

[WG] _Aveline_ _[_ **captvallen** _]_ : Right. >:(

[WG] _Isabela_ _[_ **likebigboats69** _]_ : that face is hostile & mean just like YOU

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : ANYWAY, we decided that Hawke’s the best candidate.

[WG] _Varric_ _[_ **siegeharder** _]_ : So I’ll be trading it over to him now.

 

A trade request appears on my screen.

 

 _Varric_ [ **siegeharder** ] wishes to Trade.

Do you accept?  
>Yes       No

 

“I’m so _emotional_!” I wail.

“Keep it together, big guy.” Varric says, warmly.

“I’ll try, but I think the waterworks are coming,” I say as I accept the trade request.

The trade window comes up, and Varric sends over the Mantle.

I kind of just stare at it in my Inventory for a while.

“Use it, Garrett! Use it!”

“Peer pressure!” I holler.

“Are you going to saveit for its _value_ to go up?” Fenris asks; there’s a playful tone in his voice that makes my chest feel all light.

“No! I’m… I’m just looking at it!” It’s a letter, and it’s gold in color. I hover over it. White text appears, spouting off some lore stuff that I don’t really care about.

I take a screenshot of it.

And, before anyone can fit in any more oh-so _clever_ remarks, I double-click it.

The letter vanishes from my Inventory, and white text appears across the screen.

 

 _Garrett_ [ **dragonhawke** ] has earned the title of

CHAMPION.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to mary aka snoot for being the BEST beta, as per usual!!! they coached me through the thick and thin. they listened to all my bad jokes. they also had the best glitch experience ever in inquisition involving a herd of bronto and giants falling out of the heavens, which somehow really inspired me to finish this chapter. the mind works in mysterious ways, let me tell you.


	13. Chapter 13

“I’m… What?” I stare at my screen.

My name – dragonhawke. It’s above my character, where it always is. But… there’s an extra line of text above it.

That line of text says <Champion> in crisp white letters.

“Champion!” Merrill squeals. “Oh, Garrett, that’s lovely! _Champion_ Garrett!”

“I have a title!” I’m awestruck.

“You do. Congratulations,” Fenris says.

“Something about this feels… Off,” Anders mutters.

“Perish the thought, Blondie.” Varric cackles.

“I feel like something about this title’s lore is incredibly against everything I stand for,” Anders continues.

“If Isabela were here, she’d say: _Don’t lore the place up_.” Merrill’s Isabela voice is flawless. She has a knack for impressions.

“I’ll look it up in the Codex later,” Anders says. “For now, I need to get the hell out of here.”

“I’m trying to _feel_ right now!” I holler. Champion! That’s so… Cool.

I’m on top of the world.

“Aveline!” I’m very excited. “Were you on top of the world when you got your title?!” She’s been Guard Captain for a few months now.

“I don’t know if I’d say I was _on top of the world_ , but…” She laughs a little. “Well, it was a good day.”

“I’d like a title too, please,” Merrill says.

“In time, Daisy,” Varric says. “Anyway, now that we’ve cleared Isabela’s name and successfully upped Hawke’s badass factor, who’s up for that dungeon run? Bianca still needs her rune.”

“Ah, right! The Varterral! We should get going.” I know I’ve said this before, but Sebastian is _eternally_ down for anything, and it continues to scare me. I’d say that _he_ should’ve been Wicked Grace’s champion, but… I feel emotionally attached to my new title already.

 _Champion Garrett Hawke_.

“Are you up for it, Champion?” This is why I like Fenris.

“I’m up for it!” I say. “I’m _so_ up for it.” I could take down an army right now.

“Awww, Hawke’s not a wuss anymore!” Anders coos.

I stick my tongue out in real life and then realize that he can’t see me. Whatever.

“Don’t push yourself,” Fenris says, and I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or being serious, but I’m grinning _really_ goofily.

“I’ve got this!” I say.

“Someone give Isabela some attention before she starts _another_ feud with _another_ hardcore guild,” Aveline says. “And get her ass back in this voice chat. I have a few things I want to tell her.”

 

~

  

“— And then I slammed into him! _Wham_! Critical hit!” Armed with a long piece of wood, I mimic the finishing move that I did in the MMO (against the Arishok, of course). “And he was like, urrrgh!” I clutch at my stomach and crouch, as if I’m in pain.

“Uh, okay.” Carver’s unimpressed.

“It was _magnificent_!” I exclaim.

“If you say so,” Carver replies, still unimpressed. He bites into his ham and cheese sandwich.

“You had to be there. I – I was kiting!” I gesture wildly, still holding the wood.

“Isn’t ‘kiting’ a nerd word for ‘running away?’”

“No. It’s strategy.” I put the wood down and sit on the work bench, next to him. “You know… Tactics?”

He glances at me and stares for a few seconds. Then he takes another bite into his sandwich. “You were running away, though.”

“Who told you that?!”

“I just know.”

“Dammit, Carver!” I reach over to _my_ ham and cheese sandwich and eat half of it in one bite. “Don’t ruin the moment!” I holler, even though my mouth’s full.

He grunts noncommittally.

“Anyway… It was awesome, and I’m awesome.” Yeah, winning that fight gave me a huge ego boost.

Of course, Carver doesn’t need to know that the Varterral jumped on me and instantly killed me, mere minutes after I acquired my title.

Nope. He doesn’t need to know that at all.

“Sure,” Carver wipes his hands off on his jeans.

“I’m a force to be reckoned with. I’ll destroy anyone that messes with Isabela!”

“What’re you saying about Isabela?” Bethany walks into the back room. It’s not her shift at _Duncan’s_ right now, so she’s visiting us over at _Hawke’s Carpentry_.

“Bethany! I got into a fight!” I rush over to her.

“You got into a fight?!” She blinks. “Wait, in real life, or…”

“No, in the MMO.”

“Ugh! I need to stop falling for this!”

“It was really dramatic! Isabela stole a Tome, and it was on, like, the MMO black market!” I wave my hands (and, by extension, my sandwich) around. “Then Isabela went into hiding, and this hardcore guild challenged us to a fight! Their leader talked in all caps! And then –“

“I just heard this entire story,” Carver says. “I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Fine, Grumpy!” I stomp over to him and sit back down. “Bethany, the point is: I’m a champion now. _The_ Champion.”

“That’s impressive… I think.” She laughs.

“It’s very impressive.” I stuff the rest of my sandwich into my mouth.

“Did Mom make those? I want one.” Bethany dashes over to the little office that Mom has further inside of the back room, in search of a ham sandwich.

“So,” I turn to Carver. “Not interested in working at _Duncan’s_?”

He makes a disgusted face. “No way.”

“Aw! Why not? Don’t you want the glory of serving delicious hot beverages and pastries to beloved customers?!”

“Not even a little.” He’s finished his sandwich, too. “I’d get fired on my first day.”

“You’re assuming you’d get past the interview.” I snort.

“The selfless profession of _coffee_ is not for me,” he replies. “Why don’t _you_ work there? You’re always there with Zevran and Morrigan when you’re supposed to be _here_. Working.”

“Wrong!” I point my finger at him accusatorily. “That’s totally wrong.” My phone vibrates; I reach into my pocket and yank it out. “We go there _after_ work, and rarely, too! So you’re wrong.” I slide the lock screen with my finger. “Also, you know how I get whenever I drink anything with caffeine in it.”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” He stands up and stretches. “I do know.”

“Shut up!”

 

 **Merrill** (1:32pm):  
Garrett,  
I have very exciting news!!!!!!!!! :^DDD

 

Carver shrugs. “Let’s just get this table finished up. Alistair’s dragging me out tonight, and I have stuff to do before that.”

I gasp. “The great Carver Hawke has _stuff to do_?! …Wait, don’t tell me you’re going to a club!”

 

 **Garrett** (1:32pm):  
Whats up??  
Did u get a title?

 

“Like I said…” Carver snaps his work goggles into place. “…Alistair. Dragging.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to a club.” I cackle. “Baby Carver’s going to dance the night away.”

“Shut up.” He looks away, but his ears are bright red.

If it wasn’t obvious: I love tormenting Carver.

“Are you going to _meet_ girls? Carver! Come on!” I pull my work goggles on. “At a club? Have some dignity!”

“What I’m doing is _normal_. You’re the one who picks up guys through video games.” 

“Touché.” I sigh. “Wait! I’m not picking anyone up!”

“And neither am I,” Carver grunts as he inspects the long piece of wood I was brandishing earlier. “I’m on wing-man duty. Why am I even telling you this?”

My phone vibrates. “Because you love me and you want me to be involved in your life,” I reply.

 

 **Merrill** (1:32pm):  
Garrett,  
No, I did not get a title (Yet!)  
But  
THERE IS A CONVENTION FOR THE MMORPG SOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :^O  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1  
:^D :^D :^D  
\:^D/   ~ :^D ~  
Guilds get a special discount too! It is a small one but it is still a discount!!!!!!  
Can we go please??? :^D :^D

 

“ _HOLY SHIT_!” I scream. I grab my phone with both hands. “Holy shit!”

“What the fuck?” Carver asks, monotonously.

“A… Convention! A con?! A con!” I raise my phone in the air, still holding onto it with both of my hands. “Holy shit! A discount?! Holy shit!”

“Why are you holding your phone in the air as if it’s Simba?” Bethany walks back over to us, holding a half-eaten ham sandwich.

“A convention! Merrill!” I can’t form sentences, as is the norm when I get overly-excited.

“Merrill?” For some reason, that gets Carver’s attention. “The girl with the black hair?”

I give him a look that screams ‘ _no shit_.’ “Which other Merrills do we know?!” I’m freaking out. “Oh my god! A con!” I edge over to the work bench. “I need… I need to sit down!” I sit down.

“Okay, weirdo, what are you saying?” Bethany’s ham sandwich has vanished. Never underestimate the Hawke appetite….

“A convention! For the MMO. Merrill just texted me about it. I… I didn’t know that this existed?!” I hug my phone. “Oh my god! We might be able to meet up… In real life! In the flesh!”

“Oh! Wow, that’s so cool!” Bethany’s so supportive. “Good for you guys!”

“I can touch Aveline’s muscles!” I screech.

Carver squints at me.

“…I’ll ask if I can first,” I say.

“That’s not…” He clears his throat. “…Is, uh, Merrill going to be there?”

“Probably. Man, I need to look up prices! Shit!” I start tapping away at my phone – I’m texting _everyone_.

“What about Isabela? And that weird blond guy?” Bethany inspects the unfinished table we have, which is currently upside-down and missing three of its legs.

“There’s two blond guys in Wicked Grace, but I know that you’re talking about Anders.” I laugh and shake my head. “Um… I don’t know. Maybe? And Isabela has an office job, so I’m not sure. It’ll depend.”

“Oh… Cool.” Bethany pokes at the lone attached table leg. “Hey, whose order is this?”

“Uh,” Carver picks up a clipboard. “Some guy named Bhelen.”

“Bhelen’s a grade-A asshole,” I add.

“What’s this? Is Gare _actually_ saying bad things about a customer behind their back?” Zevran walks into the room, his arms swinging. He has his work shirt tied up today.

“He made fun of my beard.” I glance up at Zevran.

“How dare he?” Zevran grins.

“Okay, but…” I keep typing on my phone – I need to contact Isabela. “…He had _braids_ in his! Who does that?!”

“Braided beards may be _in_ now,” Zevran says, hands on his hips.

 

 **Garrett** (1:34pm):  
ISABELA, DID MERRILL TELL YOU ABOUT THE CONVENTION????

 

“Where were you, Zev?” Bethany looks so amused.

“I had a job,” Zevran replies, winking. “Then I went for lunch. A beautiful woman was kind enough to treat me.”

“Don’t flirt with other people! You have a boyfriend!” I point my finger at him and give him the best Garrett-Glare I can muster.

“Cousland was with me, you nerd.” He sticks his tongue out at me. “Surely, you do not think I would stoop so low! Velanna came with us. They have a shift together.”

“You got _Velanna_ to pay for _you_?” Bethany’s incredulous.

“She lost a bet,” Zevran replies, simply.

“Wait! Velanna hates me!” She’s the pastry lady! The one who kept glaring at me.

“Velanna hates a lot of people,” Bethany says wistfully.

 

 **Isabela** (1:35pm):  
YA SHE DID AND WE ARE FCKIN GOING!!!!!!!!  
NO IFS  
NO ANDS  
NO BUTS  
IM GOIN 2 QUIT MY FUCKN JOB IF I HAV 2

 

“Yes! Isabela’s in!” I cheer.

“ _In_ for what?” Zevran drapes himself on my shoulders.

“There’s a convention for the MMO!”

“For Dragon Time?”

I sigh. “For the _millionth_ time, it’s not – You know what? I don’t even care.”

Zevran laughs.

“There’s a convention for it. Merrill just found out.” I clutch my phone. “I hope we can all go.”

“Isabela’s going? I miss that woman so very much.” Zevran pauses. “…You know what? Send me the details later, Gare. I might just drag Cousland along to it.”

“You don’t even play!”

Zevran shrugs. “Eh, I’ll wear a fabulous costume and no one will care. Cousland _likes_ that stuff, anyway.”

I gape. “Does Cousland play?!”

“…And _this_ is where I take my leave.” Zevran winks at us and dashes off to Mother’s office.

“Does he play?!” I repeat. He just laughs more and shuts the door behind him.

“Is it okay to go if you don’t play the MMO?” Bethany asks.

“Yeah. Tons of people go. It’s just for fun,” I reply.

“Then…  Maybe I’ll go, too.” She smiles.

“I can give you a ride,” I say. “I’m sure that I’ll somehow end up with the entirety of Wicked Grace in my car…” I’ll probably have to use Dad’s old truck…

“Yay!” Bethany claps a little. “Are you going to dress up for it?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It depends on how much time I’ll have…” Costumes seem fun, but also time-consuming…

And expensive.

My in-game armor isn’t even _good_. Again, I’m pretty sure I looted it off some random Templar enemy…

“Hellooo? Earth to Carver!” Bethany waves a hand in front of Carver’s face.

“Whuh?” Carver blinks rapidly.

“You were totally spacing out,” she huffs (oops, I was spacing out, too). “I said that I might get a costume for it. What about you?”

“No. I hate costumes,” Carver says.

“Woah, you want to come, too, Carver?!” I gasp dramatically and put a hand over my heart. “Am I dreaming?”

He scrunches his face up. “Shut up.”

“You should come, Carver!” Bethany grabs onto his arm. “We can wear matching outfits!”

“Hell no!” He’s super red.

“Aw, why not?” Bethany pouts. “Twins in matching outfits… That’s the cutest thing ever.”

He grumbles something.

“What’s that, Carvy?” I grab onto his other arm. “You need to speak up, y’know. Dad always said that you have a bad habit of _mumbling_.”

He rolls his eyes. “I _said_ … I don’t know if I can go. I don’t care.”

“No!” Bethany shakes his arm rapidly. “Come with us! Don’t you want to see _Merrill_?”

She grins that conniving grin that just about every member of Wicked Grace has shown to me (with the sole exception of Fenris, of course).

 Wait…

“No!” Carver splutters. “Let go of me!” He pulls his arms away from us and stomps away to reception.

And…

I’m stunned.

“Merrill?” I blink. “He wants to see Merrill?”

“This is _very_ interesting.” Bethany giggles.

“Why would he want to see Merrill?” He doesn’t even know Merrill.

“Oh, big brother.” Bethany hugs me. “You’re so damn _clueless_.”

“No! I’m not!” I frown.

“Anyway… Don’t you have a table to make?”

“I do! Go get Carver back in here! Jeez!”

“Where’d he go, anyway?” She laughs. “Hey, did you hear that he’s going clubbingtonight?!”

“I did!” I snort.

“Do you think I should go, too?” She grimaces. “I’m a bit worried about what Alistair’s got planned for him…”

I shrug. “He’s a big boy. Let him wingman away.” I can’t even imaging Carver _wingmaning._ He’d either be really good at it, or…

Well, abysmal.

“Fine. I’ll take a picture of his _clubbing_ outfit.” She cackles. “Oh, hey, let me know who goes to the con, okay?”

“Will do.” I eye her. “Is there a reason why you’re so intent on coming?”

“I think it’ll be fun!” She smirks. “Plus, I have to learn names, don’t I? Can’t go around calling Andrew _Weird Blond Guy_.”

“Well, even if you did, we’d know who you were talking about. Also, his name is Anders.”

She laughs.

~

  

“I knew it! I fucking _knew_ it!” Anders yells. “The ‘Mantle of the Champion!’ The full title it gives is ‘The Champion of _Kirkwall_ ’! I fucking _knew_ it!”

“Chill out, Blondie,” Isabela croons. We’re video chatting.

“I will not _chill out_!” He wails. “Garrett… Really? Do you _really_ want a title that’s linked to that city?”

“Yeah.” Obviously. “Hey, can we talk about the con? Is that a thing we can do, instead of this lore stuff?”

“It’s called the City of Chains, Garrett!” Anders won’t stop. “Chains! Do you know who’s in those chains?”

“Slaves were,” Fenris replies.

“No!” Anders snaps. “Wait, yeah, that’s true. But now there’s _mages_. Mages! Mages like me!”

“I want to go to the convention very badly! I asked Marethari for time off already.” Merrill’s choosing to ignore the lore talk. I don’t blame her. “I need to start buying materials for my costume! Ooh, I can’t wait!”

“You’re dressing up, Daisy?” Isabela sips her martini. “I suppose I’ll have to as well, then.”

“I’m going to go through all of the armor in the game! And then I’m going to choose my favorite one, and I’ll make it!” Merrill claps. “I’m so excited! I think I want the Dalish mage armor. The Vestments of the First!”

“If you want, I can do your face tattoos for you,” Isabela says.

“Isabela, they need to be temporary.” Merrill smiles politely.

“Really?” Isabela cackles. “I would’ve never guessed.”

“This is why it’s important to talk about these things!” Merrill says.

“I’m still willing to do them for you! ‘Temporary’ or whatever.” Isabela grins.

Anders grumbles something about the Gallows.

“I talked to Mom about taking time off work,” I say. “She’s fine with it. We’re not open on weekends, anyway… She might give us Friday and Monday off, too.” I shrug. “A little vacation for us all, I guess.”

“Oh, you don’t usually take breaks from work, do you, Garrett?” Merrill frowns.

“My hours aren’t exactly strict.” I laugh sheepishly. “I’m more worried about my Mom, to be honest.” She works hard – maybe _too_ hard.

“A break will do you all some good,” Fenris says.

“Yeah!” I squeak. “Here’s to hoping that my town doesn’t break while we’re _on_ break.”

Merrill starts laughing really hard. I beam; that was a damn good pun.

Isabela rolls her eyes, as does Fenris. Anders looks at the screen with a very “what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you-Garrett” expression.

“Sooo,” Isabela bats her eyelashes. “Awful puns aside: are we all going, then?”

“Yeah,” Anders says. “I have time off.” Time off what? No one asks and I sure as hell don’t plan to.

“Excellent. And you, Fenris?” Isabela’s… _Operation_ -ing. Of course! This is… This is a crucial moment for the _Operation_!

“Oh my god!” I might see Fenris in the flesh! “ _Oh my god_!”

I MIGHT SEE FENRIS IN THE FLESH.

I didn’t realize before! The thought of Aveline’s muscles distracted me!

“Uh… Garrett? Kitten?” Isabela laughs nervously. “Are you alright? Is Miles acting up again?”

Oh… Shit. My internal voice became my external voice. Whoops.

“Yes! I want to take him, too! But he hates car rides! Aargh!” I bury my face in my hands so that Fenris doesn’t pick up any of my (apparently obvious) lying cues.

“Do you have someone to look after him while you’re away, Garrett?” Merrill’s either oblivious to what just happened and is genuinely concerned about Miles, or she’s demonstrating impeccable acting skills.

“Yeah. Mom can do that.” I grumble from within my… Hands.

“Oh, good!”

“Okay, but I was asking Fenris a question before you _rudely_ interrupted me,” Isabela says. “Are you _in_ , Fenris?”

I mishear that as something dirty…

And I keep my face right where it is.

“I’m in,” Fenris says. _Holy shit_. Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. “I’ll have to work out transport, though… I can’t drive.”

“I can drive!” I say, because I can. That’s what I was planning to do for everyone, anyway. My house is the closest one to Merrill’s, even though she lives three hours away. “I mean, you… You can… You can fly here? I can pick you up.” Oh, god. Picking up. I told Carver I wasn’t picking anyone up.

Okay, yeah. Different kind of picking up… Kind of.

“I have a truck! It was my Dad’s.” I’d like to mention that my face is still buried in my hands. “He’s dead now. But he’d be cool with it.” He’d be more than cool with it.

_What are you waiting for? Go get him, Garrett!_

God, I miss Dad.

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hawke.”

I peek through my fingers. Fenris is smiling, calmly. He’s not doing that… Thing. The thing that people do when they _find out_.

And… I really like that.

I really do.

Meanwhile, Anders’ expression hasn’t changed, and that makes me laugh.

“Where do you live, anyway?” I ask Fenris.

“He’s actually pretty close to me! Four hours away by car!” Isabela holds up four fingers. “We could probably meet at the airport and fly down to meet you.”

“I’ll catch a ride with Varric,” Anders says. “If he’s going.”

“Varric wouldn’t miss this convention, not ever,” Merrill says, giggling. “He’s out late right now, but he texted me and said that he wants to come!”

“Excellent!” Isabela gulps down the remainder of her martini. “So, that leaves… The Big Girl and the Priest Boy.” Naturally, she means Aveline and Sebastian.

“Aveline can meet up with Anders, who’ll then meet up with Varric…” Merrill trails off. “I’m not sure about where Sebastian lives.”

“I’m on it!” Isabela chirps. She grabs her phone and starts texting away.

“Ah… I’m sorry, but I have to go.” No, Fenris! Stay! “I’ve got to meet someone…”

What?

“Oh? Do you have a hot date?” Isabela pouts. “And it’s not _me_?!”

“No!” Fenris shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s… Just a co-worker. She needs help with moving… Or something.” He sighs. “I owe her.”

“Then you have our permission to leave.” Isabela smiles. She just saved me from a night of listening to sad indie music and lamenting.

I love her.

“Thanks.” Fenris smiles, and our eyes meet. “Good night,” he says, quietly, with a small nod and without breaking eye contact with me.

And _there’s_ The Flutter.

“Night! Have fun!” I say.

His video window turns black, and he goes offline.

“Holy shit!” I yell.

“Thank fuck. Thank _fuck_. Oh, it’s time. It’s _time_ , Garrett.” Isabela cracks her knuckles. “You and Fenris.” She makes kissing noises.

Anders laughs. “Finally!”

“Oh, I’m so happy! We can all see each other, _and_ Garrett and Fenris will finally be able to hold hands and kiss!” Merrill coos.

“Maybe more than kiss, eh?” Isabela makes a particularly rude hand gesture.

“Stop! Cease!” I splutter.

“Okay. This is crucial, Kitten.” Isabela looks right at me. “You need to dress up.”

“What?!” Like I said earlier, costumes are expensive and time-consuming! “I don’t even have good armor in the MMO!”

“That’s why we’re going to find the _perfect_ outfit for you _right now_ , Kitten.” Isabela smirks.

“What is this? _Say Yes to the Dress_?” Anders clears his throat. “And, yes, I _have_ watched many episodes of that. Late-night television is addictive, let me tell you.”

“I’m going to pull the Codex up right now!” Merrill giggles. “Ooh, this is going to be so much fun! We’re going to pick the best outfit for you, Garrett!”

I’d protest more, but… I’ve never actually looked through all the armor in the game. And it might be a good time to start investing in armor which doesn’t totally suck.

“You know what? Fine.” I laugh. “But… It’s not _Say Yes to the Dress_! Not even a little bit.”

Anders cackles. It’s a distinctively _evil_ cackle. “Whatever you say, Hawke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, everyone! and, again, special shout out to mary aka snoot for being incredible and flawless and for giving me a ton of motivation! love ya, mary!


	14. Chapter 14

“—‘You sound like you’re about to ask for a loan,’ the Champion says, a confident smirk flashing across his face. Fenris smiles warmly; the light of the lone candle burning between them causes his emerald eyes to shimmer.”  
  
“Stop!” I yell. “Stop! I would _never_ say that!”

“You totally would, Hawke.” I can hear Varric typing – he’s working on his ‘Friend Fiction.’

“Fenris’ eyes _do_ shimmer, don’t they? Just like emeralds.” Isabela sighs dreamily.

“You _look_ at his _eyes_?!”

“Calm down! I know that you called dibs.” Isabela winks. “Though Fenris _is_ a hottie…”

“Stop that!” If Isabela went after him, I’m almost _certain_ that I wouldn’t stand a chance...

Anyway, she just laughs.

“Garrett, I found something promising!” Merrill exclaims. “ _Beregrand’s Breastplate_!” She sends the URL over in text chat; we all click on it.

“Veto. Too dwarfy.”

I sigh. “Isabela…”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” She hollers. We have the Codex pulled up and are systematically going through all of the heavy armor in the game. (Well, most of us are pretty distracted, but Merrill’s been religiously on-task.)

I feel like I’m on one of those tacky, yet strangely inspirational, makeover shows.

(Shit, it _is_ ‘ _Say Yes to the Dress’_.)

“Riviani’s right. Way too dwarfy.” Varric nods.

“Why is it available for humans, I wonder?” Merrill frowns. “If it’s dwarfy, shouldn’t it be for dwarves?”

“Dwarves can equip it too,” Anders replies. Judging by all the noise he’s making, he’s clicking on lots of things.

“Now that’s just silly,” Merrill huffs. “A dwarf would wear a completely different size than a human.”

“Don’t let it keep you up at night, Daisy,” Varric says. “Anyway – for the next scene, I was thinking something dramatic. Like… Fenris being swept off his feet! Into your arms, bridal-style!”

“He’s not a bride,” I grumble. “If anything, he’s a groom. And, no! No more scenes! What if he sees it when we’re at the convention? What then?!”

“Then he’ll be charmed by how utterly dreamy you are, Hawke.” Varric starts typing again. “Your desirability will essentially triple.”

“The person you’re writing about is _not_ me!” I bellow.

“How about these?” Anders sends over another URL in text chat. We click on it.

“ _Robes of the Void_?” Merrill reads.

“For the third time, Anders: I’m not a mage!” I throw my arms in the air for dramatic effect.

“But they look so _good_! Way better than any of the gross heavy armor designs.” Anders smirks. “Plus, you have to make that armor, you know. What a pain.”

“I’m commissioning mine,” Isabela says.

“Not the point, Isabela,” Anders retorts.

“I can’t sew,” she continues.

Oh my god. Idea. “Hey, Anders. I have a proposal.” I pull up a certain page on the Codex. “I’ll wear the _Robes of the Void_ if you wear this.” As I paste the URL into text chat, it’s taking every fiber of my being to _not_ burst into laughter…

“ _Templar Armor_?!” Anders yells. “Are you kidding me?!”

Isabela loses her shit. She can’t stop laughing.

“Oh, that’s the stuff.” Varric nods enthusiastically. “Blondie, this armor? The silver colour? It’ll bring out the colour of your eyes.”

“I’d rather die!” Anders is so offended.

“This is very nice!” Merrill chirps. “I like how spiky the shoulders are.”

“Merrill!” Anders’ eyes widen. “You’re a mage!”

“The sword design is pretty, too.”

“Daisy gets it,” Varric says.

“Merrill, the Templar Order is –“

“ _King Something the Forgotten’s Armor_!” Isabela announces. Another URL appears in text chat.

“Oh, this is cool,” I say. “The name makes me too sad, though.”

“There’s no winning with you,” Isabela says. “Hey, how about rogue armor? Rogues have the sexiest armor. Right, Varric?”

“Undoubtedly,” Varric replies.

“I don’t want to be _sexy_ ,” I retort.

“There’s the _Enasalin_ set,” Merrill says, pasting the URL in.

I sigh. “It’s too puffy and bard-like! I don’t want to look like a _minstrel_.”

“I thought you liked bards, Garrett…” Merrill sounds slightly betrayed.

“I do! I just don’t want to be one!”

“Oh, for crying out loud…” Anders sighs. “Why not get the armor set that matches your _incredibly offensive_ title?”

I stare at him. “There’s a set to match?!”

“Uh, yeah.” He raises an eyebrow. “It should’ve appeared in your inventory when you unlocked the title. It’s _literally_ called the Mantle of the Champion. Did you not notice it?”

“I didn’t!” I gasp. “How did you?! Are you snooping on me?!”

“Calm down!” Anders chuckles. “I was looking up the lore behind your title, remember?”

“Ooh, this is _quite_ badass!” Isabela found it in the Codex, apparently. “Here, Kitten. Check it out.”

She sends it over.

“It’s… Spikey,” I say.

“It’s _sexy_!”

“If you get that done, Hawke,” Varric says, “I can _guarantee_ that you’ll impress Fenris. Just FYI.”

“Garrett! Please go with this!” Merrill yells. “I can send you some chainmail, if you’d like!”

…Why does Merrill have chainmail…?

“Where are you getting _chainmail_?” Anders voices my concerns for me.

“Um, _Sabrae_ has it in stock, obviously!” Oh. That’s actually not surprising at all. Merrill gives him a _look_ that’s like, _how did you not know that_?

“I… I’d appreciate the chainmail. I think.” Do you even use real chainmail for costumes? Is that too hardcore? It’s no surprise that Merrill’s more hardcore than I am. “I’m not sure how to approach this…”

“We’ve been over this: you’re good with your hands.” Isabela winks. “You’re a carpenter, after all.”

“This is kind of different, though.”

Isabela slams her hand down suddenly, which, of course, causes me to jump. “Excuses, Garrett Malcolm Hawke!”

“This is a critical stage of the Operation, Hawke,” Varric says. “No pressure, but if you’re anything short of amazing, the whole damn thing might be a failure.”

No pressure at all!

“Failures are bad, Garrett,” Merrill says.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll try to make it!” I groan.

“Leave the helmet out, though.” Isabela grins.

“Why? It’s so nice!” Merrill frowns.

“Because, Daisy…” Isabela’s grin widens. “We want Fenris to _see_ Kitten’s face.”

“Helmets can also get in the way of tongue jousting,” Varric says. “If you catch my drift.”

“Jousting?” Merrill asks, excitedly.

“Jousting.” Varric nods, sagely.

“Helmets get too hot,” I say.

“Your priorities are incredibly predictable.” Anders rolls his eyes.

“They do!” I insist.

 “Regardless, our little Kitten has a plan, now!” Isabela sings. “And I, for one, need whiskey. Yes, this calls for a bottle of whiskey.” She dives off-screen.

I panic. “Wait, how do I make this?!” It looks complicated! And I’ve made costumes before, but this is kind of… Difficult.

Worth it, assuming that I don’t fuck up, but…

“You’ll figure it out,” Anders drawls. “Our job’s done. Hey, what do you think about this robe? For me, I mean.” He sends another URL over in chat, and I groan.

Varric starts reading off another part of his Friend Fiction, and I _really_ hope that this is all worth it.

 

~

 

“So you’re making this to impress a _boy_?” Bethany cackles. “That’s so _high school_ , Garrett.” She has photos of the Champion armor set pulled up on her iPhone.

“I’m not doing it to impress him!” I snap. We’re in my car; I’m driving her back to Mother’s house from the craft store.

We bought a million things.

At least that’s what you’d think if you saw our bill.

 _Conventions_ …

“You totally are.”

“Impressing him is just a part of it,” I say, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “I’m doing it because it matches my title. That’s, like, 95% of the reason. Then… 2% is for him. And the other 3% is because everyone’s forcing me to do it.”

“Nice percentages, nerd.”

“You’re just as bad as me!” I retort. “You made me buy the craft foam!” There’s dozens upon dozens of sheets. We went overboard. I know we did.

“Offloading the car’s going to be fun. Carver’s going to judge us.”

“Carver’s probably going to the convention in one of his atrocious sports shirts,” I say, since that’s basically his entire wardrobe. 

 “Oh my god! Could you imagine?!” Bethany cracks up. “We have to save him!”

“He’s going to be so embarrassed,” I say as I pull the car into Mother’s driveway. “Why’s he even coming with us?!”

“He wants to impress a girl.”

“Which girl?” I ask as I park the car. “Did he meet a girl at the club?”

“No. You’re so oblivious.” Bethany rolls her eyes. “By the way, he didn’t let me take a picture of him in his club outfit. It involved a sports shirt, though, so you didn’t miss much.”

“Are you serious?!” I can’t believe that guy. Bethany nods and hops out of the car, heading to the trunk.

It’s time to offload the mountain of craft supplies.

I groan and get out of the car, too.

Bethany’s already opened up the trunk and is in the process of grabbing all of the paint bottles she can carry.

I grab an assortment of plastic bags and waddle my way to the front door.

Mother greets us enthusiastically and immediately wants to help us with everything… Which is great, because she’s, you know, only the best artist ever.

Anyway, it takes us a while to unload the car.

At one point, I dropped literally everything I was carrying. Accidentally! But that didn’t stop Bethany from chucking a roll of craft foam at my head.

Her vengeance is swift and merciless.

 We set up a workspace in the living room. There’s newspaper everywhere - Hawkes are messy artists, and while Mother isn’t exactly fussy about getting paint on the furniture (I don’t think there’s a piece of furniture in her house that’s paint-stain-free, to be honest), we try to take _some_ precautions.

Eventually, Carver stomps down the stairs. He’s wearing a very worn-down basketball shirt and sweatpants that have a very distinct mustard stain on them.

The Carver Look.

“It’s 2pm, Carver!” Bethany points a roll of craft foam (note to self: keep craft foam _away_ from Bethany) at him.

He shrugs. “Late night,” he grunts.

“He didn’t sneak anyone home, either,” Mother says.

“Aw, sorry, Carver.” I walk up to him and pat him on the shoulder. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”

He glares at me.

“I’m _joking_! Calm down, Grumpy. Anyway!” I gesture at the living room. “Look at this! Isn’t it magnificent? The ultimate working space.”

“You should do this at the shop instead,” he replies.

…And is fully in the right. Oops.

“Well, shit.” Bethany’s realized it, too.

“It’s alright, you can just move it all later!” Mother says, cheerfully. She underestimates the laziness streak that runs in all of her children.

Bethany groans.

I do, too.

Carver just shuffles towards the kitchen.

 

~

 

“There’s too many _scales_!”

“Did I cut this straight?” I stick a diamond-esque shape of craft foam in Bethany’s face. “I can’t tell.”

“You’re a carpenter! It’s probably straight!” She swats it away. “Look at this! Look at all these scales!” She’s religiously cutting scale-shaped pieces of craft foam for her armor.

We’ve been in “Craft Foam Hell” (that’s what Bethany calls it, at least) for several hours.

It’s been fun.

Fun and painful.

I peek into the cardboard box that she’s throwing her finished scales into. There’s a pretty significant amount in there.

“How many have you done?” I ask as I pull the whole box onto my lap.

“A million, and it’s still not enough!” She groans and flops down on the couch. “Cousland warned me about this…”

“Cousland?!” I turn away from the box and stare at her, wide-eyed. “I knew it! He plays! He plays, right?”

“He’s made this before. He’s helping me.” Bethany sits up. “Also, stop asking that!”

“It’s a legitimate question!”

She snorts. “Whatever, Garrett. Let’s take a break.”

We’ve made good progress.

 I’ve cut out most of the stuff I need for my boots (and I’ve even glued some stuff together!) and I honestly don’t want to even _think_ about dealing with the armor’s top half right now.

So much measuring…

“That sounds good,” I reply. “But you didn’t answer me. Does Cousland play?!”

“No comment.” She hops off the couch and walks over to the kitchen.

“What do you mean, no comment?!” I holler after her. Her box of scales is still in my lap.

“Stop yelling.” Carver walks into the living room, carrying a plastic bag filled with some of the _Carver things_ he just bought.

“Carver things” tend to include fitness magazines, protein shakes, protein bars, protein chips…

Generally a lot of protein.

He heads over to the couch, which he proceeds to plop himself onto.

“What did you get?” I ask as I move Bethany’s box of craft foam scales out of the way.

“Just some stuff,” he replies.

I glance over at him. He’s already got one of those bodybuilding magazines out.

I know my little brother very well.

“Hey! You’re back, Carver!” Bethany walks back into the living room; she has two glasses of water. She hands me one and sits next to me, cross-legged, on the floor. “You should’ve helped me cut scales out.”

“No way,” Carver says. “I’ll go, but I’m not dressing up.”

“You’ll look out of place!” Bethany insists.

“Just don’t wear anything even remotely similar to what you’re wearing right now,” I say. I then finish the water Bethany brought me in, like, one massive gulp.

Carver snorts. “Don’t you have _foam_ to cut?”

“We’re taking a break.” Bethany stretches. “And don’t change the subject! Don’t you want to impress _people_ at the convention, Carver?”

He glares at her. “Shut up.”

“Woah, when did you start caring about _people_ , Carver?!” I’m alarmed.

“It’s not really _people_ ,” Bethany continues. She has an evil look in her eyes which reminds me a bit too much of Isabela. “More like a _person_.”

I blink a few times.

Carver’s pouting.

He’d probably have stormed off by now if he wasn’t already sprawled across the couch.

“Dress up! Dress up!” Bethany chants. “Make a costume! I’ll help.”

“I’m not making anything.”

“Darn it, Carver!” Bethany turns to me. “Garrett, isn’t there any cool warrior thing that’d suit Carver?”

I think back to the _Say Yes to the Dress_ session I had last night…

“Uh… Not really. There was one armor set that was alright, but it was too dwarfy. Then there was one that was… Wait, no, that was for rogues… It was super puffy…” I pause, mentally running through the other options.

“I’m not wearing anything _puffy_ ,” Carver says. He sounds so disgusted.

“Just let me think!” I say. “…Uh, there was the Templar set? Anders got mad about it, because of lore… And Merrill got too excited about it.”

“That’s it!” Bethany exclaims. “That’s the one!”

Carver’s wide-eyed. “Merrill?”

“Yeah,” I say. “She likes it. She likes how spikey it is, or something.”

“That was almost too easy,” Bethany says.

“What?” I don’t get it.

“I have to go.” Carver sits up and gets off the couch. “Right now.”

“Of course you do.” Bethany giggles.

“Shut up!” Carver stomps away, protein goods and magazines in tow.

I really feel like everyone around me talks in code.

As Bethany starts chatting about some movie that she saw with her friends, I take my phone out of my pocket and I flip through my contact list.

And my eyes fall on one name in particular.

 _Fenris_.

I want to talk to him. He texted me last time, didn’t he? He took the plunge. The first text…

And we haven’t texted each other since then.

I guess that I’m staring at my phone for a long time, because Bethany kicks my shin.

“Hey! Are you listening to me?!”

“No,” I reply.

She laughs. “Okay, well, at least you’re honest. What’s up?”

“I’m…” Oh, what the hell? “Should I text Fenris?”

Bethany stares blankly at me. “Who’s Fenris?”

“How are you so – _Fenris_!”

“Oh! Your boyfriend!” Bethany starts laughing. “You know how bad I am with names.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” I shove her lightly and she laughs even harder. “I swear, if you’re at the convention and you call him my boyfriend –”

“Oh my god! That would be so funny!”

“Bethany! No! It would _not_ be funny!” I clutch at my phone. “It would be the opposite of funny! It’d be awkward and horrible for everyone involved, including yourself.”

She grins. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure about that, yes!” I sigh. “I swear, I won’t take you. I’ll leave you at home! I’ll leave you at home with your box of scales!” I point at the box.

“Anything but that!” Bethany retorts, dramatically. “Anyway, I’m just messing around. I’ll be nice to Fenris. Nice and polite. I’ll treat him as if he’s your _special friend_.”

“Bethany! I swear!” I get off the floor and walk briskly away into the kitchen, trying to hide my laughter but failing miserably.

I take a seat at the kitchen counter and stare at my phone some more.

 _Fenris_.

I open up a text message window.

 

 **Garrett**  (3:55pm):  
Hey! How’re you doing?

 

…And it’s sent.

Now, see? That wasn’t so hard. Even though my heart’s beating as fast as it would be if I ran a marathon. (And, if you know me, you know how much I hate running.)

My phone vibrates and I almost drop it off the counter.

**Fenris**  (3:56pm):  
i’m at work. tons of high schoolers are around and they’re noisy.  
put me out of my misery.

 

I laugh.

 

 **Garrett**  (3:56pm):  
That sucks!!!!

 

**Fenris**  (3:56pm):  
it does, but my coworker should be back soon, so whatever.  
how are you?

 

 

 **Garrett**  (3:56pm):  
I’m at my Mom’s house w/ Bethany + Carver…  
Me + bethy are working on costumes for the con!

 

 

 **Fenris**  (3:56pm):  
sounds like fun.

 

 

 **Garrett**   (3:56pm):  
Theres craft foam everywhere.  
But it’s fun, yeah!!!! I’m hoping that we actually get it all done.

 

 

 **Fenris**  (3:56pm):  
you’re good with your hands. you’ll be fine.

 

 

I almost drop my phone (again).

I glance around the kitchen… To make sure that Bethany isn’t reading these words from over my shoulder.

(Or Isabela, for that matter. Even though I’m fully aware that she’s hundreds of miles away.)

Isabela’s the only one who makes those jokes! She made one last night!

(Or is he being serious?!)

Oh my god. He’s probably being serious and I’m just perverted as hell.

 

 **Garrett**   (3:57pm):  
People say that!!!! I’m not so sure, though!!!!

 

I can’t take this.

Why am I getting so worked up over _Fenris_ saying that, while I didn’t even flinch when Isabela did?!

It’s too much. I start cackling.

I can hear the television blaring House Hunters International from the general area of the living room, so that means I’m in the clear of Bethany nagging me for Fenris details. (Bethany takes House Hunters International very, very seriously.)

**Fenris**  (3:57pm):  
don’t sell yourself short.  
i look forward to seeing the finished product.

 

Oh, god. He has _expectations_.

Expectations are my nemesis… Largely because I have a history of failing to meet them.

 

  
 **Garrett**  (3:57pm):  
I want to see yours too!!! If you’re dressing up, that is.

 

Shit. That implies that I don’t want to see him if he’s not dressing up!

Which is untrue!

 

  
 **Garrett**  (3:57pm):  
(And of course I still want to see you, even if you don’t have a costume!!!!)

 

Nice save.

Except not really, because now I just seem desperate.

I groan and sag onto the kitchen counter.

 

 **Fenris**  (3:57pm):  
i’ll have a costume. :)  
anyway, there’s a boy in here eating a disgustingly large sandwich and i’m apparently expected to deal with that.  
so i’ll talk to you later, yes?

 

The mental image of Fenris telling a teenaged boy to stop eating in the library is hilarious to me, and I’m not sure why.

  
 **Garrett**  (3:58pm):  
LMAO good luck w/ that! talk to you later :DD

 

I rest my phone on the counter and lay, face-down, against it for a while.

So… Fenris isn’t only going to the convention, but he’s also dressing up. And he’s probably going to look absolutely amazing.

That means I have to look amazing, too. (If that’s even possible.)

And, by extension… That means I have some craft foam to cut. Right now.

I get off the stool I was perched on and walk back to the living room.

 

~

 

“Aveline, I haven’t talked to you in _forever_!” I wail.

“Calm down, Hawke. It’s been a day,” she replies.

“That doesn’t matter!” We’re the only two online tonight. Everyone’s busy, I guess.

But that’s okay.

“How’s life? How’s _work_? Did you beat up any criminals today?”

She sighs. “I had today off, so, no. But a teenager egged a house yesterday. We caught him.”

“Did you punch him?”

“No, I did not punch any minors.”

“Darn.” I reach down and scratch Miles’ head. He sniffs at my hand and licks it. “Did Donnic help you?”

“I don’t want to talk about Donnic!” Aveline squeaks. That’s too cute.

Is this why everyone loves the _Operation_ so much?

“Why not?!”

“Because I just don’t!”

I feel so powerful.

“Okay, then we won’t talk about Donnic!” We totally will. I’m giving it time.

“Good,” Aveline huffs. “So? What did you today?”  
  
“We decided that I’m going to wear the Mantle of the Champion for the convention,” I reply. “You missed it. Deciding was a whole ordeal.”

“That sounds like _Say Yes to the Dress_.”

“Everyone keeps saying that!” Myself included. “But, anyway. That happened last night, so I started making it today. I did the boots, mostly. But I still have to paint them.”

“Painting’s the fun part.” Aveline sighs. “I need to get started on my armor…”

“You should get Donnic to help you!”

“ _Hawke_!” She glares at me. Miles circles my chair conspiratorially.

I put my hands up defensively and crack up. She glares more.

“What did I just say?!” She’s so red! I feel bad now.

“I’m sorry!” I say. “I do want to know how he’s going, though. How you guys are going. My… Thing… With Fenris is an open book, right? So! Return the favor! Give me the details!”

“What _favor_?!” Aveline sighs. “Ugh… Fine. Fine! It’s not going well, okay?”

“No!” I’m legitimately upset. “What’s wrong?!”

“I don’t know!” She gestures wildly. “I tried everything! I put him on a shorter patrol, but everyone assumed that was because I thought he was inept – including Donnic himself!” She groans. “So I brought in donuts – heart-shaped donuts! And he didn’t even eat _one_.”

“That’s… Kind of a mean thing to do.”

“What?!”

“On Donnic’s part, I mean!” I clarify. “If someone bought me donuts, I’d eat them, even if I hated donuts. Or I’d take them and give them to someone else later on.” I shrug. “It’s just polite, you know?”

Aveline stares at me for a few seconds. “Well, I told him that they were for everyone.”

…Is she serious?

“Are you serious?”

“What was I supposed to _do_ , Hawke?!” She’s exasperated. “ _Tell him_ that I used the last of my paycheck on two dozen heart-shaped donuts for _him_ , specifically?!”

“Probably, Aveline! That would make the most sense!”

She makes a disgusted noise.

“We’re awful at all things romantic, apparently,” I say.

“Tell me about it.”

That’s when I have an idea.

“Why don’t you get Donnic to come to the convention with you?”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Aveline sighs.

“I can take him in my truck, too!” There’ll be room. Probably. Maybe not. I don’t know. We can make it work.

“That’s such a bad idea…” Aveline frowns. “I’ll… Mention it. Maybe. But…” She sighs. “We’ll see, okay?”

“Sounds good to me!” I say, enthusiastically, because I really just want to meet Donnic.

And to smoosh him and Aveline together… She needs all the help she can get.

It’s all very relatable.

 “You should tell everyone else about this. The rest of Wicked Grace, I mean,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Right, and make this another _Operation_? I’d rather eat raw eggs. No offense.”

I laugh _really_ hard.

“None taken, believe me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot continues to be the best beta. she also helped me out with basically all of the different food jokes in this chapter. she is a saint and we should all be grateful for this!


	15. Chapter 15

“You do not need 500 straws.”

“How do you know that?!” I shake the box of straws menacingly.  “Zevran, how do you _know_ that?!”

“You are very loud, Gare.”

“I don’t care! Let people stare! What if I need 500 straws?!” I examine the box. “500” is printed across it in a tacky, fun-looking font.

Zevran sighs. “I already regret asking you this, but why, pray tell, would you need 500 straws?”

“Because… Because…” My lower lip trembles. “I don’t know if Fenris prefers to drink straight out of the glass or if he likes to use straws! I…”

Zevran raises an eyebrow.

“I need to be prepared!”

“Gare, I know that I am not exactly the most logical person, but please take it from me.” Zevran walks over to me and yanks the box out of my hands. “You do not need 500 straws. You do not even need 100 straws. No, you probably do not need any straws _at all_.” He puts it back on the shelf.

I stare at him. Blankly. “How do you –”

“Trust me, Gare.”

“No, really, how do you –”

“Gare!”

“If Fenris wants straws and I don’t have straws, I swear, I’ll start –”

“Fine!” Zevran huffs. “Buy your 500 straws!” He grabs the box back from the shelf and chucks it into the cart.

Victory!

I cheer. Zevran shakes his head.

We’re at the grocery store (it’s called Paragon).

And…

Isabela and Fenris fly in tonight. I have to pick them up at the airport around 8pm… Their plane lands at 7:30pm.

You’d think that I’d be done with the preparations for them, but my costume has essentially _eaten_ all of my free time. I haven’t even had time to log on to the MMO.

As for my work time, we had a very… _extensive_ job with a client. Lady Elegant was her name. She was incredibly shady. She wanted way too many doors installed at her new office building…

 _All_ of my ‘door money’ went towards costume supplies.

Getting and spending money is a sick, twisted cycle.

Bethany and I had lots of late nights at the shop (we ended up following Carver’s advice – we moved everything over there). Unhealthy amounts of pizza were consumed. I hope I can still fit into my costume.

Oh, god.

Can I still fit into my costume?!

“You are zoning out again.” Zevran snaps me out of it. “I thought that Bethany was exaggerating when she told me that you needed supervision while shopping for groceries.”

“I don’t need supervision ever, thank you very much!” I’m 27 years old!

“Fine, Mr. 500-Straws.”

 “Stop!” I laugh. “I’m just tense right now.”

“Tense because you are meeting your darling boyfriend for the first time.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“He will be.”

I look down at my (worn-down) sneakers. It’s impossible to say words.

“You are far too easy to tease, Gare.” Zevran pats me on the shoulder. It’s very reassuring. “What about Isabela? I cannot wait to see her!”

“I’ve got Isabela covered.” I point at the cart. There’s a box of Caridin’s Croissants buried away in there. She’s a big fan.

“I can see _that_. I’m talking about the _rum_.”

I roll my eyes. “I refuse to be a bad influence on her, and she always brings a ton with her, anyway.”

“True.” Zevran laughs.

“Anyway, let’s just keep looking, okay? I need to pack roadtrip things, too.” Snacks… I mean, we all bring our own stuff (and we also buy stuff along the way… We’re a collective mess, honestly), but I like to cover all of the bases.

“Sure, sure…” Zevran puts his hands in his pockets and grins. He’s wearing another one of his famous crop tops and people keep staring at him.

“Anders gets fussy when he’s hungry, so I need to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for him,” I ramble. “Merrill gets too excited when she’s on roadtrips, so I need to get her juice boxes. Or one of those non-spill cups.” 

“Who is Anders?”

I gape at Zevran. “We’ve been over this!”

“I remember Merrill. Who is Anders?” We’ve totally been over this! I hate when this happens!

“He’s – Argh!” I sigh. “You’ll meet him, okay?”

“I do not remember ever hearing about an _Anders_.”

“You _have_ , but fine!” We stroll into the _healthy_ area of Paragon. There are fruits and vegetables everywhere. A girl is meticulously filling up a plastic bag with yams. It reminds me so much of Merrill that I need to text her.

 

 **Garrett**  (9:34am):  
Merrill!  
Hows it going? U done w ur costume yet?

 

“You should not be so bothered about what your friends want. Instead, buy sexy food!”

“What the hell is _sexy_ food?!” I can’t believe Zevran sometimes.

“Sexy food that is food that is sexy, obviously.”

“Like what?!” I turn towards him.  

“Bananas.” He somehow has one in his hand. “Bananas are very sexy, for obvious reasons.”

“Where did you even get that?! You know what, I don’t want to know.”

“There’s also popsicles.”

“Zevran…”

“And hot dogs!”

“ _Zevran_!”

“And let’s not forget – the classic choice – lollipops!”

“ _Zevran Arainai_!” I shake my head. “I’m buying lollipops but only because Sebastian loves them! And Sebastian’s a _priest_ , so don’t even start!”

“Is he a sexy priest?” I don’t know how he can say this stuff with a straight face, I really don’t.

“Stop!”

“There’s also asparagus.”

…

“How the fuck is asparagus sexy?”

“If you have to ask that question, you are beyond help, Gare.” Zevran walks over to the banana display and puts the one he practically _conjured_ back.

“What?! Are you messing with me?!”

He just smiles.

Why are all of my friends so evil?

  
 **Merrill**  (8:38am):  
Oooh Garrett hello!!! :^)  
I am done yes !!! I am just adding finishing touches!!!!!! :^D  
Look :^O!  
[ Image Attached ]

  
I download the image. It’s a picture of Merrill in a green tunic, with a chainmail-like material under it. She’s making a peace sign; her hands have leather gloves on them, and a leather belt is around her waist.

“Ah! Merrill’s costume looks so _good_!”

“Let me see.” Zevran shoves his face in front of my phone. “Ah! She is such a darling.”

“I’m going to see her, Zevran!” I’m smiling like a huge dork. “I’m going to see her! And I’m going to hug her! It’s going to be the best!”

  
 **Garrett**  (8:39am):  
IT LOOKS AMAZING!!!!!!!! :D  
I cant wait to see you!!!

  
“Once you remember to hug Fenris, too.”

“I’m talking about _Merrill_ right now!” I also don’t know if Fenris is a _hugging_ sort of person. I know that Merrill is…

My phone vibrates.

[New Message – Isabela] appears on the screen.

Zevran immediately grabs it from my hands. With a laugh, he starts texting her back.

“You need to stop stealing my phone,” I say.

“Wrong. I need to steal your phone more often.” His fingers type away at an alarmingly fast rate.

I grab it back from him and he laughs.

  
 **Isabela**  (8:39am):  
IM SEEIN UR BEAUTIFUL BEARDED FACE 2222NITE N WE R GOIN TO GET HAHAHAMMERED

  
 **Garrett**  (8:39am):  
Isabela, it is Zev.  
Garrett refuses to buy you any form of alcohol.  
He is clearly trying to prevent us from having fun ):

  
 **Isabela** (8:39am):  
lol im bringin my own goodz anyway idc  
ZEV I LOVE U I MISS U I LOVE U I CANT WAIT TO MEET COUSLAND N SEE U BEING ALL DOMESTIC OMG

 

 **Garrett**  (8:39am):  
I am never domestic! >:)

 

“How did you two have this conversation in less than a minute?!” I gape at Zevran.

He shrugs. “We are very close,” he says.

Isabela sends a particularly vulgar text message involving Zevran and an apron (I think she has a _thing_ for aprons). Typical.

**Garrett**  (8:39am):  
This is Garrett!!! Im in possession of my property (my phone) once more!!! Cease!  
(Also we are not getting ‘hahahammered’ I CANT BE EVEN REMOTELY TIPSY WHEN FENRIS IS HERE) 

 **Isabela**  (8:40am):  
lmao w/e w/e im headin out soon so im gonna see fenny fen bfore u do

 

“Oh my god… She’s leaving her house soon…  She’s going to the airport… And she’s going to see Fenris!”

I can’t deal.

I am standing in the middle of Paragon’s _Fruits & Vegetables_ aisle and I can’t deal.

“Oh, stop fussing.” Zevran inspects a particularly large avocado. “Isabela is a master at this sort of thing. You are in good hands.”

“I’m trying not to think about it, honestly,” I say. “I’m trying not to think about the fact that Fenris is going to be standing in my kitchen in a few hours and – oh my god, why are we still here?!” I stuff my phone back into my pocket and yank a very crumpled piece of paper out of my _other_ pocket.

It’s a grocery list.

“We need to buy these things!” I announce. “All of these things. Right now!”

“Fine. Let me see.” Zevran puts the avocado down and grabs the list. “…Garrett?”

“Yeah?” I’m already walking away with the grocery cart.

“Do you _really_ need five dozen bags of chips?”

 

~

It’s Tuesday, so it’s still a work day. Hypothetically speaking, of course. Business tends to get slow after we finish a major job.

Bethany’s sprawled out on the floor of the work room.

She’s out of craft foam hell, but it’s taken an emotional toll on her… One which may not be reversible.

Cousland’s there, too. Not sprawled out across the floor, though. He’s examining a particularly worn-down mannequin (it belongs to Mom) which is all dressed up in Bethany’s Grey Warden armor.

“You finished it!” I rush over to it. “Nice job, Bethany!”

She sits up and just stares at me.

There are dark circles under her eyes.

“This one’s loose,” Cousland says, pointing at a stud. “You got a glue gun?”

Bethany gets off the floor and wordlessly walks over to a cardboard box that’s filled with various craft supplies. She starts rummaging through it.  

“It is beautiful, Bethany! You will surely impress _everyone_ there.” Zevran hugs Cousland from behind. Cousland’s concentration doesn’t break. I guess he’s giving Bethany some final words of advice. “Did you ask Amell about the boots?”

“Yeah. They worked it out.” Cousland experimentally pokes at another stud. “The rest are good, Beth.”

_Beth!_

Since when did my little sister become friends with Cousland?! I want to be friends with Cousland…

Bethany walks over to the mannequin and plugs the glue gun in. She kind of just sits in front of it as she waits for it to get hot.

“Is she alright?” Zevran asks Cousland.

Cousland shrugs. “She will be. I’ve been there.”

Wait! This is it! This is my chance!

I eye Cousland.

He stares back at me. Completely neutral.

Zevran rolls his eyes. He knows what I’m about to do.

“Cousland?” I ask. Carefully.

He keeps staring at me… Still neutral.

“You’re going to the convention, so…” I’m trying so hard to be casual. “Do you, y’know… Play? The game? The MMO? Online?”

“Yeah.”

“What?!” It was that easy?!

“What?”

“I thought it was some huge secret!” I feel kind of ridiculous now. “I play, too!”

“Everyone knows that, Gare,” Zevran says. He buries his face in Cousland’s back and says something else, but it’s way too muffled to tell.

“I’m on a break.” Cousland shrugs. “People don’t know where I am.”

“ _People_?!” He plays with _friends_?

He shrugs again. “People.”

“Cousland is kind of a big deal, Gare!” Zevran throws his arms around Cousland’s shoulders. He’s practically dangling off them. “He has a guild and everything.”

“You have a guild?!” My world is being shattered right now.

“ _Had_ one. Or do I still have it?” Cousland trails off. He’s deep in thought, apparently. “Amell might be running things…”

“ _Fuck_!”

I jump. The glue gun hits the floor with a loud _clang_.

“Bethany!” Protective-Older-Brother-Mode activated, I run over to her. “Are you okay?!”

She slowly turns her head to look at me… And says nothing.

“Why are her eyes, like, soulless?” I ask, nervously.

“She’s seen a lot of craft foam scales,” Cousland says. “You have any ice? She burnt her hand.”

“Ice! Ice! We have ice!” I race over to the mini-fridge that’s stuffed away in a corner of the work room and grab some. Zevran wraps the ice in a paper towel and hands it to Bethany.

“Thanks,” she says. Her voice is cracked.

Craft Foam Hell has truly taken its toll on her.

“I’ll deal with this,” Cousland says. He picks up the glue gun and walks over to Bethany’s costume.

“And you are done with your costume, right, Gare?” Zevran plops himself down on the floor next to Bethany.

“Mostly,” I say. “I’m going to do a final check on it later…”

“I want to see it!”

I laugh. “It’s in Mom’s office right now! And she’s dealing with the paperwork from that big job we had last week.” Mom has a knack for paperwork. Bethany, too.

Carver’s bad at that sort of stuff. So am I.

Zevran’s capable, but he tends to doodle stuff all over the documents, and, well… If the client’s invoice has drawings of dicks all over it, it comes across as unprofessional, for some reason.

“Aw.” Zevran pouts.

“It looks the same as it did the last time you saw it,” I say. “Believe me.” I tried it on last night. Everything’s solid.

Making it was fine. The worst part was painting it, weirdly enough. I’m rusty. Luckily, Bethany isn’t at all... Mom helped, too.

A family effort, sans Carver.

I made it up to Bethany by cutting scales out for her, and I bought Mom more spaghetti from _Old Barlin’s_ , which is apparently her favorite place to eat. (Go figure.)

“You should have it out here! Displayed!” Zevran grins. “Loud and proud!”

“No way,” I say. “I _almost_ ran into it a million times _while_ I was making it. I don’t trust myself near the finished product.” One slip and it’s all over. All of it.

Okay, no. It’s not that fragile. I’m a carpenter! But… Paranoia.

At that moment, my phone vibrates… And Lady Gaga’s _Bad Romance_ starts playing from Zevran’s general direction.

Zevran grabs his phone and checks his messages before mine is even out of my pocket. (I guess _Bad Romance_ is his text tone. Why am I not surprised?!)

“Oh my god,” Zevran says.

“What is it?” I pull my phone out.

[New Message – Isabela]. Oh god.

I open up the text message… And there’s a picture.

It’s Isabela. She’s holding the phone camera up – taking a selfie – and winking. Her tongue is sticking out, and her labret is gold and shiny. She looks happy. Really, really happy. And that makes me smile, because I adore Isabela, I really do.

But then my eyes trail over to the person next to her. The person she has one arm around.

That white hair.

That light brown skin.

Those green eyes, those white ink tattoos, that small smile.

 _Fenris_.

And, holy shit, I need to sit down. I need to sit down.

Zevran starts laughing. “Garrett, the face you are making! My goodness.”

I can’t look away from the picture. _Fenris_. He’s there… He’s with Isabela. They just met up. They’re physically there, standing next to each other.

No distance. No screens.

And… I’m going to be doing that.

I’m going to see them tonight.

All of the repressed _thoughts_ – what if they’re disappointed in me, what if they think I’m _different_ from how I am online, what if, what if, what if – they swarm me. I mean, Isabela and I have met up before, but… Fenris?

Fenris is new.

Fenris, he’s…

  
 **Isabela** (1:32pm):  
look @ who i FOUND!!!!!!!! ;))))))

 

I need to sit down.

I sit down. On the floor.

“Garrett? You okay?” Bethany crawls over to me. I glance up.

Cousland’s staring at me. He looks as deadpan as ever, but I think there’s a concerned glint in his eyes (I want to believe that there is, anyway).

“Oh, Gare, Gare, Gare,” Zevran’s suddenly on the floor next to me, too. He puts an arm around me and pats my shoulder with his free hand. “It will all be okay. Believe me.”

“What happened?” Bethany asks. A part of me – the part that isn’t completely overcome with emotion – is incredibly glad that she’s speaking normally again. Craft Foam Hell has not claimed anyone.

“Isabela met with Fenris. She sent us a selfie. By the way,” Zevran turns towards me and smirks. “Congratulations, Garrett! Fenris is simply ravishing.”

“ _Ravishing_ …” I echo.

“Let me see!” Bethany lunges towards us.

Zevran shows her the photo. Meanwhile, I stare blankly ahead at Cousland. He meticulously glues down the offending stud from earlier, then turns the glue gun off and puts it down.

Then, to my surprise, he heads right over to Zevran. He sits on the floor next to him and peers over his shoulder, in an attempt to see the photo, too.

This is such a big deal that even Cousland cares.

 I bury my face in my hands. I’m legitimately dizzy…

“Oh, he looks so _cool_!” Bethany exclaims. “He’s so handsome! Oh my gosh, Garrett! He’s a million levels out of your league – just kidding!” She punches me playfully on the shoulder. “Way to go! Now I see why you chose to make such an _impossible_ costume.”

“I told you, I didn’t make it to impress him!” I start laughing, regardless.

“Isabela is _so_ gorgeous, too. My goodness.” Zevran sighs wistfully. “I miss that woman so much. We have to get drunk together at least five times before she leaves. Does Fenris drink, Gare?”

I groan.

Then I hear a door open, and someone walking into the work room.

“Uh… Do I want to know what happened here?” It’s Carver.

I look up at him. He looks… Confused. Very confused. I mean, there’s four adults on the floor of the work room, so I don’t blame him.

“Isabela met up with Fenris,” Zevran says. He hops up to his feet. “Look!” He dashes over to Carver and thrusts the phone in his face.

Carver stares at the screen. He raises his eyebrows.

“Huh,” he says. “Nice.”

Carver looked at it. He actually _looked_ at it and didn’t react in a negative way! Years ago, when I showed him a picture of Cullen for the first time, Carver just said that his hair looked like ramen noodles!

I groan and clutch my stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“We have to show this to Mom!” Bethany exclaims. “She loves Bela!” _Bela?!_ “And she wants to see Fenris, too! She’s been _dying_ to see him!”

“Yes! I agree with this course of action!” Zevran dashes back over to us and helps pull Bethany to her feet. “Leandra must see this!”

Cackling, they run off, hand-in-hand.

“You should reply to her,” Cousland tells me as he stands up. “And you should also text Fenris. I’m told that it’s the _polite_ thing to do.”

“Since when did you become _polite_?” Carver smirks. (Is he in a good mood or something? Am I hallucinating? Is everyone friends with Cousland except for me?!)

Cousland shrugs. “Like I said: it’s what I’ve been told.” He walks back over to Bethany’s costume so that he can inspect it some more.

Carver leaves me sitting on the floor and heads over to the mini-fridge.

There’s a commotion in Mom’s office.

I listen to the vague, excited shrieking (I love my Mom), bracing myself for the flurry of questions and comments that are _undoubtedly_ about to follow…

But, in the meantime, I open up my messages and send one to Isabela.

 

 **Garrett**  (1:37pm):  
Awwwwwwww you guys!!!! I’m getting emotional!  
(honestly everyone in the Carpentry’s going wild over this)

 

Then I select Fenris’ name.

  
 **Garrett** (1:37pm):  
Good luck dealing w the Isabela experience :P :P

 

Right after I send it, a door opens and I hear Mom’s heels, clicking against the concrete floor of the work room.

“Garrett!” I look up at her. She’s pointing at the phone screen. “I know Isabela, but… Is this… _Him_? The man you met on the Web?!”

“That’s him,” I say, sheepishly.

“He’s _adorable_!” She exclaims. “Oh, he looks so shy – and so _short_! Look at those big eyes! And those artistic tattoos!”

“ _Mom_ …” I groan as I (finally) get off the floor.

“Isabela chose well for you,” Zevran says.

“Isabela didn’t _choose_ anyone for me!” I retort.

“Oh, I wish I could meet him and talk to him at length,” Mom hands the phone back to Zevran. “Over a cup of tea…”

“Coffee’s better,” Bethany states.

“Not the time, Bethany,” Cousland says – he’s gluing another stud down.

“Do you want to come to the convention with us, Mom?!” Bethany asks.

“No, no,” Mom laughs. “I could never. I have a relaxing weekend with Miles planned…”

“Miles?” Carver frowns.

“My dog,” I clarify, because apparently people love to assume that Miles is _someone’s_ boyfriend.

“I’m going to drink copious amounts of wine and watch _Murder, She Wrote_ ,” Mom says, with conviction.

“That sounds lovely, Leandra,” Zevran croons. “Please, do not be _too_ wild on your own.”

Mom laughs. “Oh, before I forget… Carver, a package arrived for you earlier!”

A corner of Carver’s mouth twitches. “Where is it?”

“I have it in my office,” Mom says. “I’ll bring it out for –“

“That won’t be necessary,” Carver says, stiffly. “Nope, not at all. I’ll just go grab that.” He speed-walks away, towards her office.

Bethany and I glance at each other.

“Hey, Carver,” Bethany calls out after him. “What did you order?”

“It’s nothing,” he replies. He walks back into the main work room with a _massive_ cardboard box in tow. “Just some stuff.”

“Stuff?” I echo.

“Stuff,” he repeats.

Bethany and I glance at each other again. She’s grinning mischievously – I know that grin all too well… I know that she’s going to give a signal…

“Go, go, go!” She hollers. I lunge towards Carver.

He shouts and tries to dodge, but I latch onto the box and pull it away from him – almost falling flat onto my back in the process.

“I’ve got it!” Zevran brandishes a pair of scissors.

“How do you keep materializing objects?!” I exclaim.

“You assholes!” Carver hollers. He grabs me and puts me in a head lock, but I’m way taller than him, so it’s… Kind of awkward and ineffective.

He messes up my hair, though.

I do not appreciate that.

“Why me?!” I wail.

“Boys, stop fighting,” Mom says disinterestedly, as she wanders over to Zevran and Bethany, who are currently stabbing away at the package in an attempt to open it as quickly as possible.

Cousland walks over to it, too.

“Oh my god! Carver!” Bethany starts laughing. Hard.

“Shut up!” Carver snaps. I worm my way out of the head lock and dive over to the now-open package.

A sword pattern stares up at me. A sword pattern engraved on a metal-like surface.

“It’s Templar armor,” I say. “Carver!” I gasp. “Carver, is this your costume?!”

“Shut up!” He’s bright red. Poor guy.

Cousland nods in approval. “Looks good.”

“There! Fine! Are you happy now?!” Carver huffs and picks the box up again.

“You’ll look very handsome, Carver!” Mom says. “If you need help with any alterations, let me know!”

“I’m just going to drop this off at home.” He’s still so red. “Now. Right now.”

“Aw, you are not going to model it for us?” Zevran pouts and leans against Cousland. “What a shame. I didn’t know you were secretly a huge nerd, Carvo.”

Carver glares at Zevran, then storms out of the work room. I can hear Morrigan patronizing him.

“Nice work, gang,” Zevran says.

I laugh and shake my head.

“I feel a little bad, but he deserves it,” Bethany says.

My phone vibrates.

 

 **Fenris**  (1:43pm):  
ha. it’s fine. she’s telling me all sorts of embarrassing stories about you.  
just kidding.

 

Now _I’m_ red.

“That simply _must_ be Fenris.” Zevran rolls his eyes.

“You have it bad, big brother,” Bethany says.

“I’m so excited!” Mom hugs me. “I can’t wait to meet him. You’ll swing by the shop tomorrow, won’t you?!”

“Yeah. I’ll swing by and, uh, pick it up from here, if that’s okay.” Isabela, Fenris, the twins and I start our pre-convention road trip tomorrow.

“That’s fine, dear,” Mom says. “Once you know what you’re doing.”

“I think I do,” I say.

“At least you are honest,” Zevran says with a laugh.

The overall travel plans still make very little sense to me, but, from what I understand… Fenris and Isabela are flying in to meet me tonight. Aveline and Anders are allegedly meeting up today, too – then they’re immediately driving over to Varric’s (Anders lives two hours away from Varric, give or take. Anders also refuses to show Aveline his living quarters, which is… Typical of Anders, to be honest).

Isabela and Fenris are overnighting at my place, then tomorrow we’re grabbing Carver and Bethany and heading over to Merrill’s. Meanwhile, Varric’s going to drive Aveline and Anders over there, too. Sebastian’s also heading to Merrill’s house...

So, basically, Merrill’s house is the designated meeting-up-spot.

We’ll be staying over at Merrill’s house for a night, then we’ll all pile into my truck and head straight to the hotel that’s close to the Convention Center.

That’ll be the official Convention Road Trip.

“Are you sure that you two don’t want a ride with us?” I ask Zevran (and Cousland, but he’s back to focusing intensely on Bethany’s costume).

“Thank you for the offer, but we have to meet up with some other friends,” Zevran says. “Right, Couscous?”

 _Couscous_...

“Right,” Cousland says.

“But we’ll see you there, right?” Bethany asks.

“Naturally,” Zevran replies with a smirk. “And, yes, I _will_ be in costume.”

“What?!” That’s news to me. “First Carver, now _you_?!”

“It is a surprise, my dear Gare.” Zevran winks at me. “And that is that!”

This day just keeps getting wilder and wilder, I swear.

My phone vibrates…

 

 **Anders**  (1:46pm):  
GUESS WHO JUST GOT TO TOUCH AVELINE’S BICEPS?!  
[ Image Attached ]

 

There’s a picture of the two of them attached. Aveline has one eyebrow raised and a “you’ve got to be kidding me” look on her face… She’s flexing one of her biceps. Anders has one finger on said bicep, and he looks _way_ too happy.

I start cackling.

Bethany peers over my shoulder and at my phone.

“…Garrett,” she says. “Your friends are so weird.”

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

~

“Your place looks fine, dear. I don’t see why you’re in such a fuss.”

“I’m not in a fuss. I just need everything to be perfect. Is that dust on my TV screen?!” I dash over and wipe at it.

“It was just the lighting, Garrett,” Mom says. Miles is in front of her, wagging his tail at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Mom!” I turn to her. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to _host_!”

Mom bends down and pets Miles. He makes happy grunting sounds. He never makes those sounds for _me_ … I’m jealous…

“Did you cook any food for them?”

I gape at her. “I didn’t! Should I have?!”

“Didn’t you go to the grocery today to buy ingredients?”

“I bought stuff for the drive! I didn’t realize that I’d have to _cook_ today, too!” I glance at the clock. 5pm. I have two hours. “I have two hours!”

“Calm down! My goodness, Garrett…” Mom smiles. “Why don’t you just order spaghetti from _Old Barlin’s_?”

“No! No more spaghetti!” Why does she love spaghetti so much?!

“Then order a pizza,” she says. “There’s no point working yourself into a tizzy.”

_A tizzy…_

“Isabela _does_ love pizza…” Does Fenris?! I whip my phone out to text him, then remember that he’s on a plane and likely has no signal.

“Then, see? Pizza it is!” Mom looks proud of herself. “Why did you call me here, anyway, Garrett?”

“For moral support, okay?!” I flop down on my couch. “Do you think I should vacuum again?”

“No, dear.”

“Okay. I won’t vacuum again.” Four times was enough. “Hey, you know… I saw a tiny frying pan at Paragon today. It was for eggs.”

Mom stares at me blankly. “For eggs?”

“For eggs,” I repeat. “And I was thinking about buying it, but Zevran told me not to. But, here’s the problem.” I sit up. “What if Fenris wants to eat fried eggs tomorrow morning? What if he wants fried eggs, Mom?”

“Then you can fry eggs for him in a normal frying pan,” Mom says, slowly.

“But will those eggs be sub-par? Will I be giving Fenris sub-par fried eggs?”

Mom sighs. “You seem to be nervous, dear.”

“I’m not nervous at all!” I yell.

“It’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They love you.” Mom walks over to the couch – Miles follows. She sits next to me and hugs me.

“I know,” I splutter. “I’m just...”

A lot is happening.

The past few weeks have flown by.

And… I still can’t believe that I’m going to see them.

I especially can’t believe that I’m going to see _Fenris_.

“Just be yourself. Don’t try too hard!” She pats my back. “Your costume is splendid! Everyone will love it. Fenris will be so impressed.”

I groan. “I didn’t make it to impress him.”

“Sure, dear.”

Mom… Please…

“Do you want me to drive here to pick up this handsome fellow?” Mom pets Miles some more. “Or are you going to take him to the shop?”

“I’ll take him to the shop,” I say. “You have the dog food, right?”

“I have everything,” Mom says, very seriously.

“Okay, well, if he gives you any trouble… Just…” I roll my eyes. “Oh, who am I kidding? Miles loves you more than he loves _me_.”

Miles licks my hand. He’s so sly.

Mom just laughs. “Oh, Miles loves you, alright. But, honestly, Garrett… Don’t worry about Fenris. I can tell that he already makes you happy.”

I look down at my feet.

Because… It’s true.

He does.

“And – it was the same for me and your father.” She smiles. “Everyone’s different, but… From my experience…” She shrugs. “Being _friends_ with the one you end up with is more important than anything else. It may take a while longer – and it may be a bit more nerve-wracking, but… At the end of the day? It’s more than worth it.”

What a Mom thing to say.

It’s such a Mom thing to say that I’m actually tearing up a little.

But I don’t want her to see that, so I just flop back down on the couch.

“For instance – once, your father and I got _piss_ drunk. I’m talking – very, very drunk, Garrett.”

I start laughing… Really hard.

“And we lived in _such_ a small town!” Mom’s laughing, too. “Malcolm said – ‘Leandra, we need to get out of here. Let’s get out of here.’ Mind you, I had classes the next day! It was one in the morning!”

“Classic Dad,” I say.

“But we were so drunk, Garrett. Please be wary of how much alcohol you drink while Fenris is here.” Ah, right. The obligatory motherly disclaimer. “So I said – ‘Let’s go! Let’s get out!’ But there were no busses. We waited by the stop for _two_ _hours_. Then Malcolm decided that he’d – He’d steal my Father’s car!”

Mom’s laughing so hard; it’s infectious.

“So we – we snuck into my garage. My own garage!” She shakes her head. “And I thought… I thought I could just open the car door.”

“What?!”

“I was _drunk_ , Garrett!” She swats at me playfully. “Anyway, I gave it a mighty tug and the alarm went off immediately.”

“No!”

“Yes!” She sighs happily. “Malcolm laughed and laughed. He grabbed my hand and we _ran_ back outside. My father saw us from his bedroom window. He was so angry, Garrett.” She wipes her eye. “Oh, it was before Malcolm and I courted… One of the best memories I have of your father.”

“It’s a good story,” I say. “Thanks for telling me about it, but I’m going to refrain from stealing any vehicles with Fenris while inebriated.”

Mom grins. “Do whatever you want, dear. Just be careful not to get caught.”

~

7:00pm.

That’s what my laptop’s clock says. That’s what the clock in my living room says.

It’s also what my phone’s clock says.

7:00pm.

The plane that Fenris and Isabela are on lands at 7:30pm.

So… It’s time.

It’s time to go pick them up.

I didn’t put any gel in my hair, but I did wear my best shirt. The red plaid one. And I _did_ trim my beard, because that’s very important.

I vacuumed a fifth time, right after Mom left.

I tried going online – playing the MMO usually calms me down… But no one was online, thanks to the pre-convention crunch. It felt too weird.

Then I memorized the entire menu of _Teagan’s Pizzeria_. 

I was nervous.

But… It’s 7pm now.

And I’m calm.

I walk down into the living room. Miles stares up at me, wagging his tail.

“Everyone always loves you,” I tell him. He grunts appreciatively.

I grab my car keys and head outside, hopping into my car… And I just sit there for a bit.

Two of the most important people in the world are _literally_ minutes away from me.

I start up the ignition and my hands shake as I grip onto the steering wheel.

But as I reverse out of my driveway and head off into the night…

I realize that they aren’t shaking anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot beta'd this chapter again! after driving like two million miles. if that's not dedication, i don't know what is.  
> we also wanted to update in time for valentine's day - and miraculously succeeded - so... happy valentine's day to you all! ♥


	16. Chapter 16

I hate airports.

I also love airports.

There’s just so many _people_. They’re everywhere; coming and going.

I’m a sensitive person. The sternness of the airport officials contrasts with how _emotional_ everyone else is. That weird juxtaposition makes me feel queasy – even though I’ve been here for, like, five minutes.

I’m standing in a crowd of people. Some are pushier than others. We’re waiting for the new arrivals.

“New arrivals,” including Isabela and Fenris.

Some people are holding up signs with names scrawled across them. One woman has a bedazzled one with “Sten” written across it in bright pink letters.

That’s nice.

I don’t know Sten, or who that sign-holding woman is, but it’s really nice. Touching, even.

I should’ve made a sign.

I can’t believe it. I vacuumed my house _five times_ and memorized the menu of an incredibly crappy pizzeria, yet the thought of making a bedazzled sign for them never crossed my mind.

I’ve failed already.

It was over before it began!

My phone vibrates.  
  


**Bethany** (7:37pm):  
Dont freak out, ok !  
Is fenris w/ you yet ???  
& bela ?

  
  
Bethany’s sibling-senses have detected my misery.

Elsewhere, Carver probably sneezed, or something.

  
  
**Garrett** (7:37pm):  
No, not yet but their flights on time so they landed already  
I shouldve made a sign for them!!!! With their names!

 **Bethany** (7:37pm):  
Youre a loser !  
U don’t need a sign, they know how u look !!!  
Loser !!!!

 **Garrett** (7:38pm):  
IM NOT A LOSER

 **Bethany** (7:38pm):  
no im pretty sure you’re a loser !!!!  
let me know when youre back home lol

 **Garrett** (7:38pm):  
Don’t you have SCALES to cut

 **Bethany** (7:38pm):  
You ass !!!

 

Significantly less freaked out about not having a bedazzled sign, I laugh and put my phone back in my pocket… And then something taps me on the back. I turn around; there’s a woman with pigtails in her hair. She has lots of tattoos.

“Do you know if the flight’s on time?” She asks.

“It’s on time!” I squeak.

“Thanks!” She smiles.

She doesn’t have a bedazzled sign, either.

I’m safe. I haven’t fucked up. Not yet.

That’s when I hear a shrill squeal.

I know that squeal. I’ve heard it countless times, though usually through a headset.

I turn back around, grinning already, and –

“IT’S GARRETT _FUCKING_ HAWKE!”

– I’m knocked right off my feet.

I stagger back and almost ram into the pigtail lady (luckily, she _leapt_ out of the way).

Then… I fall like a fucking tree. Right onto the (disgusting) airport floor.

A _certain someone_ has their arms wrapped around my shoulders and is howling with laughter.

“Isabela!” I start laughing, too.

I’m on the airport floor with a woman on top of me and we both can’t stop laughing.

“Garrett Malcolm Hawke!”

“Isabela Naishe Rivaini!”

She props herself up on my chest and grimaces – while laughing. “Fuck! I hate my middle name! Shut up, Garrett!”

“Excuse me, ma’am, and, uh, sir…” A man in a uniform shuffles over to us. “I know you’re excited to be reunited, but you’re being inappropriate, and –”

“No! No, we’re not!” Isabela hollers. She points at me. “He likes _men_ , for fuck’s sake! You'd have a way higher chance at getting in his pants than -”

“ _Isabela!_ ” I splutter and lightly push her off, scrambling to get back on my feet. “I’m sorry! So sorry! We’ll be going, now! Right, Isabela?!”

“I’m just talking,” Isabela states. Her voice is slurred and she’s still on the floor.  

People around us are cracking up. Meanwhile, the man is stunned.

His nametag says “Carroll.”

Sorry, Carroll.

“I’ll deal with those two,” someone else calls out.

I know that _someone_ , too.

I turn back around…

White hair. Black turtleneck shirt, black pants, loose black beanie… Light brown skin. Tattoos. _Glasses_?!

He’s walking towards me with two suitcases in tow, and…

“Fenris,” I say.

He smirks. “That’s me,” he says.

More people are filtering out of the arrival gate, but they’re… Blurs, really.

I can’t breathe.

Time has stopped, I’m pretty sure.

He’s walking towards me – he’s so short! He’s _lean_ but so _short_ – I probably look like a giant potato next to him.

A giant, bearded potato. I’m so glad that I wore my best shirt; at least I have that going for me.

I feel sweaty. Am I sweating?

I’m sweating. _Stop sweating_!

Fenris is suddenly right in front of me. Staring at me. Is he smiling?! I can’t tell!

“Hawke,” he says. “Always a pleasure.”

I nod. Wordlessly.

My voice doesn’t work anymore.

“ _Boring_!” Isabela yells. “At least hug him, you big lug!”

 _Hug him?!_  

“She’s tipsy,” Fenris clarifies.

“Ah.” Yes! My voice works. “Are… You?” What the fuck, self. Of course he’s not drunk, he’s only _super calm_ \--

“Yes.” Well then. “No. Well, a little. We drank a _lot_ of wine on the plane.”

Isabela whacks the back of my head.

“Ow! Hey?!” When did she get off the floor?!

“If _you_ won’t hug Fenny, then _I_ will!” Isabela wraps her hands around Fenris and he raises his eyebrows.

“You’re being a public menace!” I laugh and pull her away. “Oh! Are those – are those yours?” I point at two suitcases that are in Fenris’ hands.

“Yes. One is Isabela’s. They’re not heavy. I can manage.”

“Fenny is _so_ lovely, Garrett!” Isabela clutches my arm. “Do you know he can speak _Latin_?!”

He laughs… Softly.

The same soft laugh that he does, sometimes, when we’re playing the MMO.

God, he’s right in front of me… I can reach out and touch him, if I wanted to…

And I really, really want to.

But I can’t!

Well, I _can_ , but I just _can’t_.

“That’s… That’s nice!” I squeak. _Nice_ … Of all the words… “L-Let me help you with that!” I grab one of the suitcases – it’s covered in a cheetah print pattern; it obviously belongs to Isabela.

 _God_ …

He laughs again, and I’m screaming (internally).

I look around -- Carroll backed off, but he’s standing against a wall and is staring at us. Critically.

Miles’ critical looks are way more intense, though, so it doesn’t bother me.

A very tall man is now holding the bedazzled “Sten” sign. The woman who was holding it before is excitedly chattering at him.

That’s sweet. Very sweet.

“So, uh, I parked my car, but it’s kind of far away… I can drive it over and pick you up, if you guys want me to?” Another reason to hate airports: the parking is almost always atrocious.

“I’m fine with walking.” Fenris is way too cool. “How about you, Isabela?”

“I got it,” Isabela replies.

“Got what?” I ask.

She just stares at me.

“Okay! Let’s get a move on, then!” I’m trying so hard not to laugh… “It’s so great to see you guys! You look amazing!”

They really do. Fenris looks comfortable yet stylish (I can’t get over the glasses…), and Isabela’s in a sleek-looking, dark red pantsuit that’s definitely worth more than my entire wardrobe combined. She has the top buttoned down a lot.

“And you look so _handsome_ , Hawkey!” Isabela croons as she leans against me. “Carrying my luggage, too… What a gentleman.”

“I’m always a gentleman,” I say.

“And your shirt isn’t tucked in!” She turns to Fenris. “He’s learning!”

“Hey!” We start walking towards the exit. Isabela has her hand around my waist. “What’s wrong with tucking my shirt in?!”

“Absolutely nothing.” Isabela winks at Fenris.

“I’m so confused!” I exclaim. “I can’t believe you’re here, in the flesh, confusing me!”

Isabela giggles. “Garrett, it’s so good to see you.”

I shake my head and put a hand around her waist, too. “It’s good to see you, too.”

I glance over at Fenris from the corner of my eye.

He’s still smiling. It’s a very _real_ smile.

And I can’t help but smile, too.  


~  


“Miles! Nooo!”

It’s too late. Miles charges across the living room and slams right into Fenris.

Fenris grunts, but somehow doesn’t get knocked over.

“Bad dog!” I say. I reach out and pull Miles off -- he scrambles and tries to latch onto Fenris. “I’m so sorry, Fenris! He gets excited!”

“It’s fine,” Fenris says, adjusting his turtleneck. Dammit, Miles!

“ _Miles_!” Isabela runs up to Miles and wraps her arms around him. “It’s Miles! The legend!”

Miles barks appreciatively and licks her face. Then he goes over to Fenris and wags his stubby little tail…

“Why are you being cute for _them_?!” I poke him.

He barks some more.

“Ah, where should we…” Fenris gestures at the suitcases behind him.

“Oh! We can just…” I clear my throat. “I have a guest room. Uh, you can stay there if you want? And Isabela can --”

“No, I want the bed!” Isabela roars. She clings onto Miles. “Fenris! Find somewhere else! Sleep with Garrett!”

Oh my god… Oh my god.

My mind goes blank.

I see nothing. I feel nothing.

Where am I?

Fenris laughs. “You can have the bed, Isabela. I’m fine with the couch.”

“Yeah. Sure. It’s a spacious couch,” a voice says. “Very roomy! I had to buy a big couch because, surprise, I’m big! And, you know, having a big couch? It’s very important. And it can be hard to find a couch that can accommodate my limbs. Which are long. Too long.” Wait, is that my voice? “Do you know I was the tallest person in all of my classes, all the way until college? I mean, maybe I was taller than my classmates in college. But, you know, you kind of stop noticing at that point. Or caring. Oh my god, should I have cared?!”

“You’re fine, Gary,” Isabela says.

“GARY?!” I whip around and face her. “GARY?!”

She starts laughing so hard that she doubles over.

“Gary?” Fenris asks. “Is that…”

“No!” I yell. “No! That is not an acceptable nickname and she _knows_ that!” I point at Isabela’s suitcase. “Take this to the guest room and think about what you’ve done, young lady!”

Isabela’s laughter devolves into a fit of giggles. “Yes, Daddy,” she says, winking.

“Oh my god!” I clutch at my face, covering my eyes. “Oh my god. I need – I need my couch.”

I feel someone gently touch my arms and I let them lead me over to the couch. I sit down, and when I finally uncover my eyes… I see Fenris.

He’s right in front of me.

Fenris. That person was Fenris.

That was the first bit of actual physical _contact_ I’ve had with Fenris.

 _Fenris touched me_.

He’s _still_ smiling. I don’t think he’s stopped smiling since I picked him up at the airport.

I’m so glad.

The Flutter is… Fluttering.

Isabela lets out a battle cry (the same one she does during MMO sessions) and dashes up the stairs, pulling her suitcase along. Miles howls and chases after her.

“Garrett! Where’s the guest room?!” She yells. There’s a loud thud. “Fuck!”

“Isabela?” I call out.

“Sorry. Dropped _all_ my shit. Ooh, Miles! I love Miles!”

I sigh and Fenris takes a seat next to me.

“The guest room’s down the hall and to the right,” I call out.

“Found it!” Isabela replies. A door opens and then slams shut.

“Was she like this on the plane?” I ask Fenris. I pull my phone out of my pocket – I have a _ton_ of unread texts but I can’t deal with those right now.

Fenris shrugs. “She was excited. Then we started drinking, and… She got even more excited.”

“Drunk Isabela’s very happy,” I say.

“She is. It’s… Good.” Fenris looks away.

_Is he shy?!_

“Really good, yeah! I don’t drink much, but I get very emotional…” I look down at my phone and scroll through my contact list, looking for the number of _Teagan’s Pizzeria_.

I mean, I know it by heart.

But… I’m just making sure, okay? Precautions.

“Even _more_ emotional?”

“Low blow!” I laugh.

He turns back towards me and he’s _still_ smiling.

I’ve never seen him smile this much.

My hands are extremely sweaty.

How am I even talking to him?!

I feel like the Garrett who heard his voice for the first time. The Garrett who saw his _face_ for the first time. That Past-Garrett? He was a mess.

…More of a mess, anyway.

So… The Present Garrett needs to try. I need to try.

Okay. Bravery! Boldness!

I take a deep breath.

“What kind of pizza do you like?” I ask.

He blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh! I’m ordering pizza!” I point at my phone. “There’s a Pizzeria nearby. It’s terrible.”

“Terrible?” Fenris quirks his brow and, ugh, I’m laughing way too much tonight.

“Terrible in a good way!” I say. “Does that make sense?”

“No, but I trust your judgment.” He smirks. “Anything is fine.”

“Isabela likes tons of meat on hers,” I say.

“That’s predictable.”

“I know right?!” I touch the “call” button and put the phone up to my ear. “I think she orders it just so she can say ‘ _meat lover’s_ ’ in a disturbingly sultry voice –“

I’m interrupted by someone on the other end of the line, thanking me for calling _Teagan's Pizzeria_.

Fenris chuckles; I stand up and wander around the room as I put in an order for two large pizzas.

“Okay,” I say as I get off the phone, “they said it’ll be here soon.”

Fenris is still sitting on the couch. He was looking away – towards the random assortment of family photos I have on a table across from the couch – but when he hears me get off the phone, he turns back towards me.

It seems like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible.

Something about that makes my chest feel tight.

“Feel free to walk around and stuff,” I say. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable.

I mean, he seems happy, but… I don’t know.

Something about the way he’s just _sitting_ there…

Fenris’ eyes widen. “I know. I mean, thanks. I’m just…” He looks at the floor. “I’m a bit tired, I supposed.”

“Do you want to turn in for the night?” There’ll be a lot of time to talk with him. I really just want him to be as comfortable around me as possible. “Uh, you can go take my bed if you want.” I can feel my face becoming redder and redder. “I can stay on the couch instead.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m fine here.”

“It’s no trouble! Really, I understand –“

“Hawke.”

 _Hawke_.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I don’t want to sleep yet, either. The night is young.” He stands up and walks over to me, then smiles. “You have a very nice house.”

“Thanks!”

“It’s bigger than I imagined it would be,” he says. The corner of his mouth twitches a bit.

I’m having another one of my _Am-I-a-pervert-or-did-Fenris-just-make-a-dirty-joke_ moments.

“I lucked out!” My voice is _way_ too loud. “The landlady’s really strict, though! She’s always on my case about something!”

“You told me about her.” Fenris walks over to the pictures he was looking at a few minutes ago. “Meredith, yes? The woman who was very concerned about uncollected dog shit.”

“That’s her!” I go over to the pictures, too.

Fenris points at a picture. Mom took it last year… I’m standing between Bethany and Carver, leaning forward so that I have my arms draped on their shoulders… I’m also laughing, and very drunk. We’re all wearing tacky holiday sweaters, too.

“I assume these two are Bethany and Carver,” Fenris says. “Your siblings.”

“That’s them,” I say. “That picture’s from last year.” It’s also kind of embarrassing. I should’ve hid all of these photos… “You’ll meet them tomorrow.”

“Ah.” He nods and smiles. “And this one…” His hand drifts over to a photo of…

Dad and I.

I’m young – probably around 3 years old.

Dad’s arms are covered in tattoos. His hair’s still black – judging by the other photos Mom has, the grey hairs started popping up a few years later. He’s grinning goofily and is holding me up in the air, as if I’m Simba.

I am, naturally, elated.

“It’s strange,” Fenris muses. “I thought you were born with a beard.”

That catches me completely off guard – I have a laughing fit. Right there.

I’m laughing way too much tonight, but I just can’t stop…

“Contrary to popular belief, my magnificent beard appeared a few years later,” I wheeze. “Probably the second I hit puberty.”

“You must’ve inherited it,” Fenris says. Right – Dad has a beard in that picture, too. It’s slightly more magnificent than mine.

“Someday, my beard will achieve that level of magnificence,” I say. “It’s all a process.”

Fenris chuckles.

He inspects another picture – one of me and Mom – and I glance over at the staircase.

Isabela is sitting at the top of it. Her hair is wet and pulled into a bun – I guess she found the guest bathroom without my guidance -- and she’s wearing a huge t-shirt.

She’s looking right at us and is smiling.

It’s not an _Operation_ smile.

It’s not a conniving smile.

It’s… Motherly.

Miles sits loyally at her side.

It dawns upon me that she was _probably_ pretending to be drunker than she actually was.

“Is this your mother?” Fenris asks.

I turn back to him. He’s still looking at the photo -- he hasn’t seen Isabela. “Yeah! That’s her. That was taken a few years ago.”

I glance back at Isabela and glare at her.

She shrugs and stands up. Miles barks.

“Hello, boys!” Isabela saunters down the stairs. Miles bounds down after her.

“Have you sobered up?” I ask… Cautiously. With a very _meaningful_ look.

“Garrett!” She places a hand over her chest, feigning offense. “I’m never sober!”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “I ordered pizza. It’ll be here soon.”

“Did you order pizza with lots of –“

“Yes, they both have meat on them.”

She does a little fist pump. “Fuck yes. You know me so well.”

“It’s been years, Isabela,” I say. My phone vibrates – I yank it out of my pocket.

 

 **Bethany** (8:23pm):  
GOSH  
REPLY TO MY TEXTS U ASSLORD !!!!!

 

Bethany sent five texts before, apparently.

I scroll up to them.

 

 **Bethany** (7:47pm):  
any news ???

 **Bethany** (7:56pm):  
Garrett -__- ?

 **Bethany** (8:06pm):  
STOP IGNORING ME !!!  
DID U GET FENRIS + BELA YET ???

 **Bethany** (8:10pm):  
Im going to get Carver to drive me to your house RIGHT NOW  
if u dont reply to me WITHIN THE MINUTE Garrett Hawke !!!

 **Bethany** (8:16pm):  
Nvm I went into Carver’s room and he threw a pillow at me …  
What a weirdo !!!!

 

“Bethany’s been having a wild night,” I say.

“Bethany?!” Isabela lunges for my phone. I skillfully dodge out of the way and run right into a wall.

“Fuck!” I exclaim upon impact.

“Was that worth it?” Isabela asks.

“It was totally worth it,” I say.

 

 **Garrett** (8:25pm):  
I’M SO SORRY  
theyre here!! Safe + sound. But I just ran into a wall.  
  
  
  
I get a reply almost instantly.

  
  
**Bethany** (8:25pm):  
yay !!!!  
STOP embarrassing yourself in front of fenris please !!!  
tell them I say hi, ok !!! :)

 

“Bethany says hi,” I say.

“She’s so sweet. What a darling woman. What an absolute angel!” Isabela throws herself down on the couch.

“I can see your underwear,” I inform her.

“We’re all friends here,” she replies. “Fen! You should take a shower, too. You can get that awful _plane_ feeling off you.”

“What about the pizza?” Fenris asks. He pushes his glasses further up his nose bridge and, I swear, I cannot stop blushing tonight. “You don’t have to wait for me if it arrives.”

“It’ll be a while,” I say. “ _Teagan’s Pizzeria_ is known for being really slow.”

He grins crookedly. “And you order pizzas from there because…?”

I shrug. “It’s the most convenient. Also, their pizzas are gigantic. Like, weirdly gigantic… Yet somehow not filling. I think they won an award once.”

“Good to know.” Fenris folds his arms. “So… The bathroom, then?”

I blink. “The bathroom…?”

“He wants to shower, you loser.” Isabela rolls her eyes. Miles hops up on the couch next to her.

“Right! Yeah! The bathroom!” I scratch the back of my head. “Follow me! I’ll show you. I put shampoo and stuff in there so… You can use it, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Okay. One moment.” Fenris walks over to his suitcase and unzips it.

I catch a very brief glimpse of something that looks suspiciously like armor, but… The suitcase is zipped up soon after.

Fenris pulls out some clothes and walks over to me.

Miles whimpers as we head up the stairs.

“I’ll bring him back soon, you big baby,” I call out.

More whimpering.

“Miles is a baby,” I tell Fenris.

“A very _large_ baby,” Fenris says. “He’s great. I’ll have to talk more with him later.”

That’s so cute.

I’m going to die. That was so cute.

Instead of dying, I point at a door down the hall. “That’s the guest bathroom. Have fun!”

…Have fun?!

_Have fun?!_

“Will do.” Fenris doesn’t even react to my awkwardness, and for that I am eternally grateful.

He goes in there and closes the door behind him.

I stand in the hall and just kind of stare after him.

I’m not weird at all.

Miles bounds up the stairs and crashes into me.

“Ow! Damn!” I bend down and pet him. “Calm down, Miles!”

He keeps _whimpering_.

“Fenris will play with you soon! Come on.” I walk back downstairs; Miles follows me.

Isabela is still lying down on the couch. She’s texting away.

“Garrett, you’re doing wonderfully,” she says once she sees me enter the room.

“What? I’m doing _wonderfully_ at what?!” I’m very defensive.

“You should’ve hugged Fenris, but that’s okay.” She sits up. “Everything else has been heart-warming. Keep it up!”

“Stop!” I stomp over to the couch and sit next to her.

“You should go take a shower, too. Change into some sexy pajamas.” She giggles. “It’ll be a slumber party! We can do our nails.”

I look at her.

And then I reach out and hug her.

Because she’s here.

“You’re awful,” I say.

She cackles. “I try.”  
  


~  
  


“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I’m standing in the living room. I just got out of the shower.

(Or, rather, I was just _lightly_ blow-drying my beard. I can’t look sloppy for Fenris. It’s impossible.)

I don’t have _sexy_ pajamas. I’m just wearing a loose shirt and some loose pants.

Meanwhile, Fenris and Isabela are sitting on the floor of the living room. They each have a glass in front of them, and both glasses are filled with an amber-gold liquid.

“Hawke!” Isabela raises her glass. “ _Whiskey_! Straight up! Want some?”

“One sip of that would destroy me,” I say. “Is the pizza here yet?”

“Not yet!” Isabela replies. “Hence… Whiskey!”

“Whiskey isn’t filling,” I state.

It’s just hell in liquid form. How does it _literally_ taste like fire?!

“But it’s _good_ ,” Fenris says.

I finally look at Fenris properly.

He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt – I can see the (usually hidden) white ink tattoos, all over his arms.

They’re so beautiful and fluid… I never thought I’d be able to see those tattoos, and now they’re right in front of me.

I could touch them if I wanted to.

 _Argh_!

 _Anyway_!

He’s also wearing pants that seem a _bit_ too long.

His face is flushed and he’s smiling goofily.

How much has he had to drink…?

I give Isabela a critical look.

A look that says _this is your doing_.

She winks. “Garrett, did you know? Zev and Cousland are out of town. They’re visiting a friend!”

“I knew that, yeah.” I take a seat on the floor between Isabela and Fenris. “She lives closer to the convention and they wanted to catch up with her, so they left early.”

I can’t remember her name, though.

“How is Cousland? You’ve met him, haven’t you?” She takes a sip of whiskey. “I’ve only seen photos. He’s hot.”

“He’s…” Hot? Is Cousland hot? He’s pretty attractive. “I’ve never thought of him that way. Zevran would kill me.”

“True.” Isabela smirks.

“He’s nice, I think? He’s blunt. I think he’s friends with Bethany and Carver, but I’m not sure how.” I sigh. “Why isn’t he friends with me?!”

“He probably is. You’re just dense,” Isabela replies.

“Am not!” I frown. “His dog is Miles’ brother.”

“He gave you Miles?” Fenris asks.

“He did, yeah. When Miles was a puppy.” I look around. “Where _is_ Miles, anyway?”

“On the couch,” Fenris says.

I turn around and, yeah, Miles is taking up most of the couch space. His eyes are closed.

At that very second, the doorbell rings.

Miles’ eyes shoot open and he leaps off the couch, barking repeatedly. He scrambles towards the door.

“Woah! Hey! Miles!” I stand up. “That must be the pizza – I’ll go grab it.”

“I’ll help!” Isabela stands up, too. “Fenris, stay put!” She dashes after me, down the hall towards the front door.

“Wish he wore shorts, huh?” Isabela whispers into my ear.

“I’m not a pervert like you!” I whisper back. I glance back – Fenris isn’t in earshot, thank goodness.

She pouts. “I’m not a pervert! I just appreciate the finer things in life. And Fenris is _fine_.”

I scowl and she giggles.

I pay the delivery boy – his ginger hair is all over the place and he’s very disgruntled – while Isabela grabs the two pizzas.

They’re gigantic, but I ordered two. Mostly because Isabela can eat enough pizza for a small army.

“Pizza’s here!” She sings. She runs back into the living room.

 I lock the door behind me and walk over there, too.

Fenris is standing in the kitchen, in front of a table.

Isabela puts the pizza down on said table and she takes a seat.

“Hawke,” Fenris says.

“Yes?” I walk to his side. “Are you okay?”

“Where is all the wood?”

His voice is so slurred; he’s definitely tipsy…

“Wood?” I… Try to humor him.

Fenris sighs. “You said you had wood.”

“You mean at the shop?”

“Where is your wood, Hawke?”

“My _what_?!” I splutter.

Isabela snorts _very_ loudly and puts her face on the table.

Judging by how much she’s shaking, she’s obviously laughing her ass off.

Fenris rests one of his hands on the table. “Did you build this?” He inspects it.

“No. No, I didn’t build that table.” Tipsy Fenris is a gift.

“Good,” Fenris says. He makes direct eye contact with me. “Because it’s a fucking shitty table.”

That does it.

I lose my shit.

I’m wheezing! I have to prop myself up on the table.

The _shitty_ table.

I’m laughing so hard, I can’t feel my face anymore.

Isabela, too, has lost it.

Her laughter is like one steady, continuous scream – albeit a very gleeful scream.

When I can finally stand up straight again, I look at Fenris (while wiping laughter-tears from my eyes).

He’s very smug.

“You… You need to eat something.” I pull a chair out for him, then reach out and grab his arm. “Do you want water? I can get you some water.”

“I want wine.” Fenris lets me guide him to the chair and takes a seat.

“Let’s take a break from the alcohol, yeah?” I go over to my cabinet and grab a glass.

“You haven’t had any, Hawke,” Fenris says. He sounds offended.

“I told you – I get too emotional.” With the glass in hand, I head over to my fridge and pour water in it. “I’m already emotional enough, since you two are actually _here_.”

“Awww!” Isabela’s still face-down on the table.

Some particularly flashy packaging – packaging that’s sitting on my kitchen counter – catches my eye.

The straws.

My 500 straws.

“Hey, Fenris,” I say. “Do you want a straw?”

Fenris stares at me. “No.”

…

Dammit.  


~

 

Fenris sobered up once he ate.

Isabela, though? Not so much. But that’s fine.

She ate a whole pizza.

Pizza is, apparently, her favorite food. Even if it’s crappy _Teagan’s Pizzeria_ pizza.

Now she’s back in the living room with Fenris. I think they’re watching Project Runway. Meanwhile, I’m stuffing the pizza boxes into the trash.

When that’s taken care of, I walk over there.

Miles is on top of Fenris… Fenris doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s scratching Miles absent-mindedly on the head.

I can’t believe I’m actually jealous of my dog right now.

Isabela yells something about Heidi being full of shit.

I’m not sure what that means.

“Okay! Fuck it! I’m done!” Isabela hollers. She stands up. “That episode’s over and I’m fucking exhausted. It’s time for me to get some sleep.”

She marches over to the stairs. Miles squirms around on Fenris and licks his face.

Again: I _literally_ cannot believe that I’m jealous of my _dog_.

“Good night,” Fenris says. “Thanks for today.”

She smiles at him and does a sloppy curtsy. “Anytime, Fenny.”

“Night, Isabela,” I call out, because I, admittedly, want to be in the conversation, too.

“Good night, Garrett!” She runs up to me and kisses me on the cheek, then dashes up the stairs. “You boys play nice, now!”

I can’t tell if she just _Operation_ ’d me, or if she genuinely wants to sleep.

I take a seat next to Fenris (and Miles).

Fenris turns off the television. “So…”

“Hey!” _HEY?!_ Why did I say that?!

“Hey.” Fenris smiles.

Okay, we’re good. We’re fine.

“Is Miles too heavy? Should I move him?” Yes! Dog talk! My ever-present safety net.

“No, he’s fine.” Fenris scratches Miles behind his ears some more. “What a fascinating dog.”

Fascinating? No one ever describes Miles as _fascinating_.

“Do you ever wonder what he thinks about?” Fenris asks softly.

“He thinks about dog things,” I reply. “Such as: _how do I sneak into Garrett’s room and claim his bed_? And also: _Garrett is in front of that weird glowing box instead of playing with me. I will now proceed to tear a feather pillow in half and prance around in the feathers_.”

Fenris laughs. “Did he really?”

“Oh, he did.” I poke Miles’ side. “I walked into the living room one morning… Feathers were everywhere. I thought a flock of birds somehow got into my apartment…”

“You need to prioritize Miles over your gaming escapades, clearly.”

“He’s an attention hog!” I grin. “And now you have cold, hard proof that Miles isn’t my secret human boyfriend.”

“I saw him during video chats already!” Fenris huffs.

He’s the cutest human being in the _world_.

“This is more proof!” I insist.

“Okay, what if there’s another Miles?” Fenris bites his lower lip. “How do I know that your _actual_ secret boyfriend, Miles, isn’t hiding in a room in this house?”

“Well played, Fenris. Well played.” I stroke my beard. “Hmm. I guess you’ll have to trust me, huh?”

“I suppose.” Fenris grins.

“Or I can show you all the rooms. But you’ve seen all. Except for my room… Which you can _totally_ sleep in, if you want.”

_Fuck!_

That sounds suggestive. No!

“Instead of on this couch, I mean.”

No! Still suggestive!

“I mean…” I swear to god, Garrett… “You can sleep up there, and I can take the couch instead.”

“I told you – I’m fine, Hawke.” Fenris takes his glasses off and wipes at the lenses. “Believe me.”

“I’ll get you some blankets! And a pillow!” I squeak. I hurry off to a closet upstairs.

I grab a bunch of blankets. One of them is the red one that I frequently wrap myself up in while I play the MMO…

I, of course, washed it before Fenris and Isabela got here.

(I washed _everything_. I’m such a mess.)

I grab a bunch of pillows and go back downstairs.

Miles left Fenris’ lap and is resting on the floor, close to the staircase.

Fenris is staring at his phone screen.

I waddle over to him (I’m holding a _lot_ of blankets and pillows).

“Hawke, I don’t need _that_ much… Stuff,” he says.

“There can never be too much stuff!” I holler.

“True.” He stands up and helps me carry all of the blankets over to the couch. We just kind of dump it there in a big pile. “I’m… Pretty tired.”

Oh no. I was keeping him up.

“I’m sorry!” I gesture at the pile. “Just… take whatever you need. Uh, my room is the one right at the top of the staircase. If you need anything, feel free to wake me up.”

“Thanks.” He smiles.

The Flutter makes its glorious re-appearance.

“Great! Cool!” I clap my hands together. “I’ll leave you to sleep, then!”

“Thanks,” Fenris repeats. “Uh, also… Thanks for having me, Hawke.”

A lump immediately forms in my throat.

Is this… A moment?

A Fenris Moment?

It feels significant.

Oh my god, I’m sweating again.

“Hey, it’s no problem! I’m glad that you’re here.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice at an even pitch… “I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

“Me neither,” Fenris replies quietly.

And, before I know it, my arms are around him.

I’m hugging him.

He gets really tense. Rigid.

I pull away from him.

“I’m sorry!” Oh no. Oh my god. I ruined it. I ruined the Fenris Moment. “I just… Uh, good night!” I’m still holding onto his sides. _Fuck_.

I was doing so well!

I’m just about to let go of him when he leans forward and hugs me, too.

My heart’s beating so fast, I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out.

He feels so warm.

And he smells like pizza and whiskey.

I’ve never liked the smell of pizza and whiskey as much as I do in this moment.

We pull away from each other eventually.

He’s smiling. I’m smiling.

We’re smiling.

“Good night, Hawke,” he says.

“Yeah! Good night!” I say. I feel like I’m floating. I kind of walk backwards, over to the staircase. “If Miles bugs you, just come get me. Don’t feel bad. And, uh, you can watch more T.V. if you want.”

“Thanks.”

“Cool! Okay! Night! See you in the morning!” I dash up the stairs and peek down the hall.

Isabela is peering out of the guest room, a wicked grin on her face.

As I close my bedroom door, I hear her laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot CONTINUES to flawlessly beta wicked grace. mary's awesome. she is like a beautiful starfish of sunshine who yells at me for punctuation errors. it's great. she's great. thank you so much, mary!!!


	17. Chapter 17

I need food.

That’s my first thought.

I take breakfast very seriously. Some people can go without breakfast.

 _How_?

I flop around in bed for a bit.

My head hurts and I feel unnaturally cold. Where’s my red blanket?!

Dissatisfied with this current state of affairs, I stumble out of bed.

I peek through the blinds that are covering my bedroom window… It’s still dark out.

I know I need to do something. I would never be awake this early if I didn’t have to _do_ something.

But that can wait.

_I need food._

I drag myself out into the hallway and yawn.

“Miles?” I call out.

(Granted, it sounds more like a really loud gurgling noise. It’s too early.)

He usually sleeps next to the staircase, but I can’t see him. Or, rather, I can’t see the Miles-Shaped-Blob that I _would_ be seeing if it _wasn’t_ sinfully dark out.

“Weird dog,” I grumble. “Going places… Hiding…”

I’m not making sense.

I don’t care.

I step on Miles’ beloved squeaky toy and the noise it makes scares the shit out of me.

“ _Fuck_!” I holler. “Dammit, Miles! Such a slob!”

I press myself against the wall and reach around for the light switch.

I flip it on and –

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Someone is on my couch, wrapped up in my red blanket, and is… Staring right at me.

“Garrett?” Someone says.

“Who – Oh! Oh! Oh my god!” Fenris. Right! Fenris!

He’s here!

“I forgot!” I gasp. “I forgot that you’re here – oh my god!” I’m still pressed against the wall, clutching my chest.

“Oh… Sorry,” Fenris says. “I’m here. Yeah.”

“No! You don’t have to apologize!” My heart rate is out of control. “I just—”

Miles leaps over the coffee table and scrambles over to me.

I bend down and scratch him behind his ears.

I’m wide awake, now. I’m also fully aware that I look absolutely horrifying.

Bed hair! Messy beard! Ratty pajamas!

Luckily, I didn’t wear my dragon-print pants. I don’t look like a child.

I don’t want Fenris to see me looking like a gigantic, bearded child, believe it or not.

 “Uh, did you sleep well?!” I can’t look directly at him. I just can’t.

“Yes. Very well.” His voice is all throaty.

I gather my courage and glance up at him. He’s curled up in my red blanket, rubbing his eyes…

In a way, it feels intimate.

Intimate in a really fucking _weird_ way. 

But still intimate.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Uh, I think it’s around 5,” I reply. “…Too early, basically.”

“Mhmm.” Fenris kind of lets himself sag back into his little cocoon of blankets… I can appreciate that, for I, too, have mastered the art of the blanket cocoon.

This is surreal.

Fenris is in my house. On my couch! Wrapped up in _my_ blankets!

I stare at him.

I can’t see his face anymore; I just see his white hair, peeking out of the blanket cocoon.

That’s so cute. It’s too cute.

I’m still pressed against the wall. Miles is licking my ankles with great enthusiasm.

I don’t want to look away from Fenris… But I’m being creepy. I know I am.

I also think he’s drifted back to sleep.

No, Fenris!

I should’ve asked him what he wants to eat for breakfast!

Pancakes? Waffles? Eggs? Toast?!

There are too many options and I don’t want to wake him up.

Where’s Isabela when you need her?!

Okay. I’m just… Going to walk to the kitchen.

I peel myself off the wall and make my way over there. Miles follows.

I turn the kitchen light on and look back over at the Fenris-lump in the living room. Yeah, he’s definitely asleep.

“Miles… What should I do?” I look down at him.

He wags his tail and stares back at me… That’s no help.

I reach for my pocket… Then realize that my pajama pants have no pockets. My phone’s also upstairs.

Completely vulnerable.

I could run back up there, but that has the risk of waking Fenris up…

(Again…)

Or… I can do something else.

Something my mom would frown upon. Something _typical_.

I turn towards my kitchen and take a deep breath, because, well…

Let’s just say I have a _lot_ of breakfast to make.

~

“Kitten...”

I glance over my shoulder.

Isabela is standing in the doorway.

Her hair’s up in a bun, and she has a blue bandana pulled around it. She’s wearing a red tank top and stylishly-ripped-up denim shorts… I can see the dagger tattoos she has on her upper legs.

Her arms are also folded, and she looks very unamused.

“What is this?” She asks.

“This is breakfast!” I sing. I turn back towards the stove and flip a pancake.

“Are Bethany and Carver coming over?” Isabela asks.

“No. It’s 6am. They’re probably still sleeping. Do you know that Bethany snores?”

“On any other day, I would eat this piece of Bethany trivia up, but, right now, I am too disgusted by… _This_. What is _this_?”

“I told you!” I balance the now-cooked pancake on my spatula and plop it down on the increasingly tall pancake tower I have assembled. “This is breakfast!”

I turn away from the stove. “There’s pancakes…” I point to the stack of pancakes next to the stove – yet another one of my famed pancake towers. “Toast…” I point to a separate, toast tower, which is next to the toaster. “French toast, because I wasn’t sure if toast was too boring…” Yes, there’s also a French toast tower, and it’s next to the aforementioned toast tower. “Waffles…” I don’t make waffle towers nearly as often as I should, which is shocking, because I love waffles. “And, finally, bacon.” There’s one of those huge popcorn bowls on the kitchen table, filled up with bacon.

Isabela pinches her nose bridge. “Garrett… Why didn’t you just wake me up…?”

“Did I do something wrong?!” I gasp. “Is it the lack of eggs? I figured the eggs would get cold, and that would be gross – we can reheat everything else, but reheating an egg just seems –“

“Hawke, there is enough food here to feed an army,” Isabela says. “I’m sensing some Hawke-Panic right now. Did you see Fenris in your living room and throw yourself into a Hawke-Panic at five in the morning?”

I stare at her.

Then I stare at pancake tower.

“Maybe,” I say.

She laughs. “At least you’re honest, Kitten.” She walks over to me and hugs me.

“Did I do a bad thing?” I ask. “Where’s Fenris?!”

“He’s showering. I heard the shower running when I walked by this morning.” Isabela smirks.

 _Showering_ …

“Hot, huh?”

“Wha…?” I stare at her.

She leans over to me, her lips hovering over my ear. “Fenris is naked… In your house… Right now.”

“STOP!” I shove her away and she cackles. “You’re a demon! You… You… That’s so… Inappropriate!”

“It’s the truth.” Isabela shrugs and wanders over to the bacon-bowl (okay, that does sound kind of nauseating), then pops a piece in her mouth. “Mmm! Hawke, this is some good shit!”

“I know it’s _good shit_ , I take breakfast seriously!” I’m very irritated. It’s six in the morning and I’m already distressed. “I… I should shower, too. Oh, shit! Should we eat breakfast together, though? Should I wait?”

“You have batter in your beard,” Isabela points out.

People point that out way too often for my liking.

“Again?!” I clutch at it. “This joke is _old_! Old news! I thought it would’ve stopped by now!”

“Evidently, it hasn’t,” Isabela says. “Go shower. You need a shower.”

“What if Fenris wants eggs?! Or… Or something else?” The possibilities are endless.

“I’ll make him eggs.”

“That’s a horrifying thing to say. I am horrified.” Isabela can’t cook.

“What the hell, Hawke!” Isabela puts her hands on her hips. “I’m _offended_!”

“You can’t cook! Remember when you started that fire – _while_ we were having a video call?!”

Isabela rolls her eyes. “Can’t a girl start one _tiny_ fire without it ruining her entire reputation?”

“No, Isabela.” I say. “You made those ramen noodles _blow up_. Your reputation in the cooking world deserves all the shit it gets.”

“That was years ago. I was in college!” She pouts and eats another piece of bacon. “Whatever! Just go shower. And hurry it up!”

“Okay! Hurrying!” I dash out of the kitchen, then do a double take and jog back over there. “Wait! Don’t let Miles get near the bacon. Just… Don’t.”

“I know that,” Isabela replies. “Dogs aren’t supposed to eat bacon. I know that much.”

“Yeah, but Miles is deceptive. Don’t give into his _mind games_.”

Isabela sighs. “Kitten, you should hear yourself. This is why Fenris thought Miles was your boyfriend.” 

“Miles is _not_ my boyfriend!” I holler, as I start jogging up the stairs.

When I get to the top, I can hear the shower from the guest bathroom…

And I remember what Isabela said.

And…

As I dive into my room, I’m not thinking about _that_.

Not at all.

~

Showering before interacting with Fenris (half-asleep Fenris doesn’t count) was a good call.

I had an incredible amount of ingredients on various parts of my body.

The woes of body hair.

I pull on a brown plaid shirt (my _arsenal_ of plaid is going to be put to good use this coming weekend) and jeans, blow-dry my beard a little (because I’m shameless), then dash out of my room.

When I’m out in the hall, the first thing I notice is that I can’t hear the shower from the guest bathroom… So Fenris is downstairs and, again, at the mercy of Isabela.

And Miles.

A truly fearful duo.

Anyway, I make my way downstairs.

“…He’s _marvelous_ in bed. That tongue! Really, it’s almost a shame that he’s settled down...”

Why, Isabela? Why? I’m not even in the kitchen yet and know that she’s talking about Zevran.

(I’ve heard the tongue talk before.)

 “I see.” I can’t believe Fenris is actually taking part in this conversation.

“I’ll live, though. He’s far happier now, and a happy Zevran is a wonderful Zevran. And… Well, I’ve had better, too.”

Okay! Intervening! “Really, Isabela? Really? Zevran isn’t even here to defend himself.” I swoop into the kitchen.

“I’m just being honest!” Isabela exclaims. “You know I love Zev, kitten! It’s all a matter of taste. Very subjective. I’m sure Zev’s techniques are just _perfect_ for Cousland.” She giggles. “I’ll have to ask them _all_ about it…”

“You can fawn over them when we’re at the convention,” I say. “You, uh… Have you –”

Wait. Manners. I turn to Fenris. He’s sitting at the table. “Uh, morning, Fenris!” …Again.

“Good morning.” His glasses are gone.

“Woah!” It takes me by surprise. “Your…” I gesture at my eyes. “…They’re gone!”

“Form proper sentences, kitten,” Isabela drawls. I glare at her.

“I wore those glasses because of the plane.” Okay, Fenris knew what I meant. That’s enough for me. “I wear contacts, usually. But… My eyes dried out. The pressure. So contacts… Hurt.”

“Oh! Right!” I slap my forehead in realization and, fuck, it hurts! I try not to let it show, but I can see Isabela giving me a particularly amused look in my peripheral vision. “The pressure! That sucks. Are you… Okay?”

“I’m fine.” He smiles that small, _tight_ smile of his and I want to touch his lips with my fingers.

Is that weird?

It’s totally weird.

 _Ugh_.

“We were administering _incredible_ restraint, kitten! We waited for you before breakfast! Look at the feast you prepared!” Isabela gestures at all of the breakfast food towers.

She’s right. I’m ridiculous.

This display? It’s ridiculous.

Okay, play it cool, Garrett! Play it cool!

“Just take what you want,” I say.

Isabela grabs a plate and starts dishing out an alarming amount of bacon (I tell you, she takes meat _so_ seriously, it’s almost scary).

Meanwhile, Fenris just kind of sits there.

“Do you want anything?” I ask him.

He blinks up at me. He’s not wearing the beanie today; his hair is back to normal. He’s wearing a simple grey shirt (it somehow makes the green in his eyes stand out even more) and plain black jeans.

“I don’t really eat breakfast,” he says.

I gasp. “You what?!”

Isabela moves over to the French toast tower. “Hawke takes his breakfast _very_ seriously, Fenny.”

 _Fenny_ …

She grabs a few slices. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll eat _something_ , or else he might force-feed you. I do enjoy seeing attractive men feed each other, but not when it’s forceful.”

_ATTRACTIVE MEN._

“You’re so predictable,” I say, trying to fight off the impending blush.

Trying and failing.

Meanwhile, Fenris is giving the bacon bowl a particularly scornful look.

“I can scramble up some eggs,” I offer.

“No, that’s okay,” he replies.

Eggs have been shot down, but I’m kind of in the mood for eggs.

Damn.

Isabela plops her _very_ full plate on the table, right next to…

A bottle of vodka?!

“Where did you get that?!” I demand.

She looks up at me with doe eyes that don’t fool me for a second. “I brought it down while you were showering!”

“How much alcohol do you even have in your suitcase?”

“Isabela enjoys duty-free shopping,” Fenris says as he surveys the pancake tower. “Perhaps a bit too much.”

She sticks her tongue out at him as she dashes over to the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice. “You’re one to talk, Wine Boy.”

They have inside jokes! That’s cute, but I’m also jealous.

Fenris and I totally have inside jokes… Right?

Fenris takes one single pancake and stares down at it.

“I make the best pancakes!” I announce. “Bethany always says so.”

Fenris grunts noncommittally, and I laugh.

“When are we picking her up?” Isabela asks. “ _When_ will I get to _see_ that magnificent woman, that darling beam of sunshine, that –”

“If you creep on my sister, I’m going to throw you out of the truck,” I tell her.

“I never _creep_ on anyone.” Isabela pours vodka into her empty glass, then adds orange juice to it. (Yes, her concoction is still mostly vodka.) “I appreciate.”

“Sure,” I say. Fenris is smiling, I think.

Nice!

“Anyway, anyone else want one?” Isabela holds up her glass.

“Why the fuck not?” Fenris murmurs. He takes a seat next to her; she cackles and starts pouring out a drink for Fenris.

“It’s barely seven,” I say.

“Party hard.” Isabela gulps her drink down.

Like I said: Predictable.

“How about you, Hawke?” Fenris asks. He’s sipping at his, like a _normal_ person.

“I’m driving, so no.” I grab a plate and start piling stuff from _every_ breakfast-food-tower onto it.

“Ah. That… Makes sense. That’s very... Good. Of you.”

 _Good_?

“Hawke is great,” Isabela says. Her mouth is full…

“Yeah, sure! Right!” I pour bacon onto my plate, too.

“He’s very trustworthy.” Isabela’s laying it on thick. “Dense as shit, though.”

What?! “Am not!”

“Totally dense.” Isabela shakes her head and munches on a slice of toast. “Disgustingly dense.”

“I am _not_!” I holler. “Stop patronizing me in my kitchen! I’m not used to this!”

“Aw, I know, right?!” Isabela coos. “I’m with my _boys_ …”

“No, I mean, I can’t do anything when you’re behind my computer screen. But! You’re here, right now. So…” I stuff an entire pancake into my mouth at once. “…I’ll hide your costume if you keep patronizing me.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “I’d like to see you _try_ , Garrett. I’m the rogue, here. I’ll steal all of your soaps. _All of them_.”

No! How did she find my soaps?! She has to be bluffing. “What soaps?”

“Don’t try that.” Isabela rolls her eyes. “I saw your collection. They were in a cupboard. The one under the sink, in the guest bathroom.”

What’s she doing, snooping around like that?!

Fenris blinks a few times and then looks at me. “Why do you keep your soaps in the guest bathroom…?”

I can’t tell him the real reason.

I can’t.

 I –

“I doubt that’s all he has. His own bathroom’s filled up with them, probably,” Isabela says.

“What?!” She was spot-on, but I refuse to admit that. “No! I just… Keep it all there. For…”

They both stare at me.

“…Fun…”

Fenris raises an eyebrow.

I sigh.

“Okay, yeah, you’re right.” I just love soap.

Merrill always sends me tons.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate that immensely, to be honest.

There are just so many _scents_ …

“I thought so.” Isabela swigs down the rest of her drink.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see these soaps,” Fenris muses.

“I can show them to you, if you want,” Isabela replies.

“Stop! Don’t look at my soaps!” This conversation is too weird!

“You’re among friends, kitten. Your little collection is safe… For now.” Isabela winks. “Anyway!” She points at her (empty) plate. “That was delicious. Good job, Garrett.”

Fenris is still working on his lone pancake.

Is he a slow eater? That’s… Really cute.

 _Shit_.

“Thanks!” I squeak.

Isabela squints at me.

_She knows that I was having a moment._

Luckily, Fenris doesn’t. That’s what matters.

Isabela’s smug.

I can’t let her have the upper hand…

“Hey, Fenris,” I say. “Did I ever tell you about the time that Isabela tried to make ramen noodles?”

~

“I hate walking!”

“Calm down, Isabela. It’s only a few minutes away. I walk there almost every day.” She can be such a drama queen.

We finally left my house – admittedly, a bit behind schedule. Bethany sent _six_ text messages my way…

Anyway, it’s a great day. There’s not one cloud in the sky and it’s only 8 in the morning, so the sun isn’t _blaring_ down just yet. Late summer’s always been refreshing to me. It’s a great time of year, I think.

Also, when we left my house, Meredith wasn’t around, so I didn’t have to face her glare.

Luck is definitely on my side.

“I have a suitcase!” Isabela continues to wail.

“We all do,” I point out. I’m dragging one over from my house… It wasn’t worth driving over.

“Yours is empty, Hawke.”

“There are clothes and various food items stuffed in there, thank you very much!” It’s also almost comically large. I just have to pack up my costume… There are padded boxes at the Carpentry, so hopefully that process won’t be too grueling. “Also, I’m trying to control this beast!”

Miles doesn’t respond to my loving teasing. He just keeps pulling me along. It’s as if he can _tell_ that he’s going to Mom’s house for a few days. He knows he’s going to be pampered non-stop.

“I can hold the leash,” Fenris says. He has his suitcase in tow, too. Unlike Isabela, he isn’t complaining about the walk at all.

I guess he’s used to it… He _did_ mention that he doesn’t know how to drive…

“I’ve got him, it’s okay!” I’d feel bad. Miles is prone to dragging people around.

You don’t walk _Miles_.

Miles walks _you_.

“No… I…” Fenris clears his throat. “Well, okay.”

Isabela gives me a dirty look.

And then I realize that Fenris probably just wants to walk Miles.

Like, he’s not offering to walk him for the sole purpose of making my life easier.

He genuinely wants to walk my dog.

“Actually, yeah! Sure!” I stop walking and pull Miles back a little. “You can walk the beast. He loves you, anyway.”

“Alright,” Fenris says. He doesn’t smile or frown or anything.

I feel like he’s a bit tenser than he was yesterday… Or maybe he’s just not a morning person.

Shit, what if our _hug_ thing creeped him out?!

He didn’t seem creeped out.

Also, wow, I totally forgot that even happened, up until now.

I’m handing Fenris the leash and blushing.

 _Pathetic_.

The second Fenris has the leash, Miles trots up to him and licks his hand.

“Hey,” Fenris tells him.

“You’re good with animals, Fenris,” Isabela says.

Fenris shrugs. “Some.”

“Are you a dog person?” I ask.

“Maybe.” Yeah, okay, he’s definitely tense today.

“I’m good with _everything_ ,” I say, as we resume our walk to the Carpentry.

“That’s unsurprising,” Fenris says. “You seem like the type.”

“I wanted a cat, but if I got one, Anders would never stop pestering me for photos of it,” I say. “Believe me.”

“I believe you,” Fenris says, so grimly that it makes me laugh.

We cross the street, making guesses about how many cats Anders has (Fenris says 5, I say 4, and Isabela says 12).

And then I see it.

Dad’s truck.

The logo for Hawke’s Carpentry remains proudly painted at its side…

(Nothing like some good old cross-country advertisement, I guess.)

The door to the Carpentry itself opens up, and my Mom steps out.

“Mom!” I call out.

Miles barks excitedly.

And this huge grin just spreads across Mom’s face.

“Leandra!” Isabela roars. She dashes over to her, pulling her suitcase along with one hand, her free arm extended out to envelop Mom in a hug.

“Isabela, you’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you! My goodness!”

I chuckle and glance over to Fenris.

He’s practically white-knuckling the leash.

…Is he nervous about meeting my Mom? My family?

Is that what this is all about?!

I’m so incredibly dense! Holy shit! Isabela was right!

 _Of course_ he’s nervous! I’d be nervous if I was meeting his family.

Wait, does he have a family?

He does… Right?

“Isabela met her before,” I tell him. “Don’t worry, my mother doesn’t expect you to tackle her like that.”

“I figured.” Fenris bites his lower lip.

He’s definitely nervous.

It’s surreal.

Mom pulls away from Isabela and gives us a little wave.

Miles barks some more and wags his tail.

Fenris and I walk forward to Mom, and I’m suddenly really nervous, too.

I know she’ll like Fenris.

How could she not?!

But… I don’t know.

I feel weird.

Mom knows I have a _crush_ on him… She’s never really met someone I’ve been in the _crush_ stage with.

There was Cullen, but we were (supposedly) dating.

Anyway, I have no idea how she’ll treat him, and that’s distinctly terrifying.

“You must be Fenris!” Mom says.

“Yes,” he replies. “I am. And you’re... Mrs. Hawke.”

He’s being so polite. I want to cry.

Mom laughs. “Oh, goodness! You can call me Leandra, honey! Only the clients call me Mrs. Hawke!”

“Ah… Leandra, then.” Fenris bows his head forward slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too! Come here!” She wraps her arms around Fenris in a casual hug – a lot more toned down than the display she had with Isabela.

I look over towards Isabela. She flashes me a thumbs-up, then speed-walks into the Carpentry.

“You are so _cute_!” Mom’s gushing over Fenris. “And so fashionable!”

I vaguely remember Bethany telling Mom that Fenris is fashionable (because he dyes his hair, supposedly) and I have to resist bursting into laughter.

I mean, it’s true, but…

Fashionable Fenris.

It never gets old.

Fenris’ mouth quirks. “Thank you,” he says.

“And here’s another handsome fellow!” Mom reaches down and pets Miles, who barks very enthusiastically. “I’ve been seeing you a lot lately, Miles.”

“He’s an attention hog,” I say.

“Don’t be jealous, dear,” Mom says with a smirk. “Oh! You kids are on a tight schedule, aren’t you? I’m just so caught up in the excitement.”

“It’s alright. Hi, by the way.” She totally didn’t greet me.

“Hello, Garrett!” She laughs. “Now – Fenris, are you hungry? I can make some breakfast for you, if you’d like.”

“No thank you. Hawke – I mean, Garrett – made a lot of food,” Fenris says.

“Did you make one of those horrifying pancake towers?” Mom knows me too well.

“I made one of those, yes.” Lying by omission is the way to go. She doesn’t need to know about the toast, the French toast, the waffles, and the bacon bowl. Not at all.

She gives me a judgmental look, regardless.

I shrug. Fenris feigns innocence.

“Well, the twins are inside,” Mom says. “They’re all packed up.”

“Great! I have to get my costume sorted out,” I say. “I put a box in your office; it’s what I’m packing the armor in.”

“Yes, I saw it. Get a move on, dear. You don’t want to keep your guests waiting.”

“Right, right!”

We walk into the Carpentry, then into the work room.

(We take Miles in, too, because Miles holds privilege over all other dogs.)

Isabela’s leaning against a work table.

She’s grinning and she has her hands on her hips.

…Bethany’s next to her, giggling.

 _Isabela_ …

“It’s about time!” Isabela sings. “Bethany, Carver… Here’s Fenris.” She points at Fenris.

 “Fenris!” Bethany exclaims. “It’s great to finally meet you! I’ve heard _so_ much about you from Garrett!”

Oh, jeez.

“I can tell that you two are very special friends.”

_Bethany!_

No! Stop!

I glare at her.

Fenris is unfazed.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says.

Carver’s suddenly in front of Bethany. He looks Fenris up and down.

My siblings are incapable of being normal, apparently.

“You’re Carver, I assume,” Fenris says.

Carver looks up at him, kind of like a deer in the headlights, or something.

_As if you weren’t standing right in front of him, Carver…_

“Yeah. Hey, man,” Carver says.

Huh. That was surprisingly unhostile.

Wait…

I gasp. “Carver, why are you dressed in actual clothes?!”

He’s not wearing anything sports-related. He’s in a plain blue t-shirt and jeans.

The shirt looks like it’s been ironed, though.

What the fuck is going on?!

“Why’re _you_ dressed in actual clothes?” Carver retorts. “Not tucking your shirt in, Garrett? Sloppy.”

“What?! Hey!” I’m mortified!

Should I have tucked it in?!

Zevran told me not to!

Isabela shakes her head and waves dismissively.

I’m good.

All is well.

Carver’s an ass.

Fenris looks pretty amused, though.

So at least there’s that.

“Hurry up, Garrett!” Bethany says. She looks a little fancy, too – she’s wearing a yellow sundress. “I already packed up my costume while you were taking _forever_ to get here.”

“You’re dressing up like a Grey Warden, right, Bethy?” Isabela asks.

“That’s right!” Bethany clenches her fists. “I worked hard on it!”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Isabela croons.

Fenris and I make eye contact.

His gaze is very _knowing_.

Jeez…

Miles bounds over to Bethany and whimpers.

“Okay! It’s time! I’m going to pack _right now_!” I announce.

“Go forth, Hawkey,” Isabela says.

I can feel the adrenaline.

I pat Fenris on the back.

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

And I dash off into Mom’s office before anyone can start _patronizing_ me.

~

I wrap my costume up with bubble wrap at an alarmingly fast speed.

I’m trying to be as careful as possible. I don’t want to break anything.

There’s an emergency “Fix-Broken-Shit” kit in my suitcase already, but I’d really rather not use that – at least not until we’re actually at the convention.

The woes of heavy armor.

I’d regret my class choice, but I owe a _lot_ to being a Warrior, so… Yeah.

The box I’m putting everything in is padded, too, so I think I’m safe – at least for now.

Anyway, I put everything away in there, and I run through a mental checklist a few times.

I just can’t help but feel as if something’s missing…

That’s when I see it.

It’s a small shield. Really, it’s too small to be use as an actual shield prop.

Bethany and I were goofing around one night while we were working on our costumes…

As a weird form of productive procrastination, I wanted to make a family crest with the Carpentry’s logo – to put up in the work room, of course – but I ended up making it too small.

You know when you start off making something as a joke, but then end up putting a bit too much effort into it?

That’s what happened.

It’s made of wood, obviously, though I painted it silver and gold and added the family crest over that (in red paint... It's the Hawke colour).

I know I have no use for it, but…

I’ll take it with me anyway.

It might bring me some luck.

I wrap it up in some stray red fabric and toss it into the box.

I close the box and tape it up for some extra security (yes, I know, I’m being paranoid)…

Then I move that box into my suitcase.

As I zip it up, I take a few deep breaths and use the solitude to compose myself.

Because… It’s finally time.

It’s finally time to get in Dad’s truck and start the trip to Merrill’s house.

I’m going to see all the people I love so very much... And then… The convention.

 _The Operation_.

I know that this coming weekend is going to be one to remember.

And as I pull my suitcase out of Mom’s office, I just hope it’ll be memorable in the _good_ way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mary aka snoot continues to be the best beta imaginable! we've both been super busy with these terrible things called "academic obligations," but we've risen above them. thank you so much, mary, for correcting my tendency to lapse into pirate-speak while typing - and also for making sure that i don't overwork myself! ♥


	18. Chapter 18

“Put on some Lady GaGa!”

I grip my steering wheel. “I don’t own any music by Lady GaGa.” We’ve been in this truck for an hour, with around three more to go. Not sure how I feel about it descending into Pop Music Hell just yet.

Ah, yes. Pop Music Hell. The second ring of Hell, right after Craft Foam Hell.

“Liar!” Isabela hits the back of my seat. “I know you listen to _Monster_ on repeat when we’re farming for materials.”

“Is that MMO-talk?” Bethany asks.

“Yes, Sunshine, it is,” Isabela replies.

“Hey! _Monster_ ’s a good song!” I holler, choosing to ignore the particularly cutesy name Isabela has bestowed upon my younger sister.

(I’m _certain_ that Varric played a hand in this. He’s all about nicknames...)

“Aha!” Isabela shoves the back of my seat again. “So you _do_ have her music!”

Damn!

I glare into the rearview mirror so that I can make eye contact with her and she giggles.

“Garrett, if you put that on...” Carver grumbles. He’s sitting far back.

Dad’s truck is pretty big. There are two seats up front – the driver’s seat (where I’m sitting, obviously), and then there’s a passenger seat next to me… Isabela all but _threw_ Fenris into it. She said she ‘called shotgun’ for him. I didn’t know that you could call shotgun in anyone’s stead, but apparently that’s a thing.

Anyway, right behind us, there’s another row of seats. Isabela’s behind me and Bethany’s next to her. That row can extend out – it has a fold-down seat… I told Carver to sit there, but he _had_ to be _Carver._ He sat in the third row of seats, right behind Isabela’s seat.

There’s a free seat next to him, and then there’s a final row behind him that can fit three people.

So… We can get Wicked Grace in here.

Barely. Likely with a lot of whining.

But it’s possible.

“Wait! Does Lady GaGa somehow _challenge_ Carver’s masculinity?” Oh, Carver. “Never mind, then. I’m in. I have her entire discography.”

Everyone laughs. Carver grunts.

I reach for my iPod with one hand, keeping my other hand on the steering wheel.

“I’ll get it,” Fenris says. He reaches out his hand, too, and it brushes against mine for… Not even a second.

Not even a second, and my whole body gets hot.

At least I didn’t _yank_ my hand away or launch into a high-pitched soliloquy.

Progress. Baby steps.

“Thanks!” I say, gripping back onto the steering wheel.

He nods, and I’m a little lightheaded, but it’s okay.

Fenris is looking down at the iPod screen. I glance back into the rearview mirror; Isabela winks at me.

Then she pulls a phone out of her purse and starts rapidly texting someone.

 _Monster_ starts blaring out of the car speakers.

Bethany giggles – Isabela’s doing a little dance in her seat.

“You have an alarming amount of music,” Fenris says. “Do you listen to all of this?”

“Oh! Yeah.” Shit, he’s going through my music. How sly. “I listen to a lot of it while grinding.” Grinding takes time…

“Grinding?” Isabela echoes.

“Yes, grinding!” Isabela can make just about anything sound dirty. “In the MMO! Grinding! Training! Experience! You know what I mean!”

“Sure,” Isabela says, her voice distinctly mischievous.

“MMO-grinding is the only grinding Garrett’s _ever_ going to do,” Bethany states. 

And, of course, Isabela’s very amused by that.

Too amused.

“Are you really doing this, Bethany?” I ask. “Are you really tormenting your older brother about his lack of _grinding_ while Lady GaGa plays in the background?”

“Yes. You haven’t _been_ with anyone. Ever,” Bethany says.

“I have! I was with Cullen!” Cullen was something that happened.

Or, well, _someone_.

“Eww, TMI!” Bethany wrinkles her nose. 

Fenris’ shoulders shake – he’s laughing.

God…

“I’ve _grinded_ on many people,” Isabela announces.

“Like Zevran,” I say.

“Exactly, like Zevran!” Isabela whacks the back of my chair with enthusiasm.

“Women, too, right?” Bethany asks.

…Why is she asking?

I glance over to Fenris (effectively taking my eyes off the road). Fenris glances over to me, too.

“Women, too!” Isabela confirms.

“You’ve been with them… In bed?”

 _Bethany_ …

“Many times, yes.”

I’m speechless.

I can’t speak.

Lady GaGa is singing about “getting down on the floor,” and I am _speechless_.

“You see, sweetness…” Isabela wraps one of her arms around Bethany. “Men are good for one thing. Women are good for _six_.”

Is this really happening?

“Six?” Bethany asks.

Okay, that’s it! Big brother protection is a go!

“Isabela!” I yell.

She bursts into laughter. She clutches her chest and doubles over.

Carver mutters something that I don’t quite catch, but it makes Isabela laugh even harder.

Fenris is chuckling. I can’t possibly look at Bethany.

I mean, my eyes are on the _road_. Where they should be. I’m a very cautious driver!

But… Still. I can’t. I just can’t do it.

“Aw, you’re blushing!” Isabela coos. “The Hawkes are just too cute. Even you, Carver.”

Carver grunts some more.

“Don’t you agree, Fenris?” Of _course_ Isabela’s going to drag Fenris into this…

He shrugs.

I’m a little disappointed.

But then I remember the current situation, and I’m significantly less disappointed.

 _Monster_ ends. Some other Lady GaGa song that I care less about starts playing.

I can’t believe that Isabela hit on my sister, openly, in front of Carver and I (and Fenris, but… We’re her brothers!).

In our Dad’s truck!

I’m in shock.

Dad would be so excited, though. He’d love Isabela.

Jeez…

“Is it too late to turn back?” Carver asks.

“Aw! See? You guys are scaring Carver,” I say.

“You started it!” Bethany retorts.

“What?! Blasphemy!”

“You brought up _grinding_.”

“A totally different kind of grinding!” I refuse to take the blame for this!

“Now, now,” Fenris says disinterestedly.

“I didn’t start anything!” I wail, regardless. “It’s all Isabela’s fault.”

“What’s my fault?” She wasn’t even paying attention…

“ _This_!”

“Of course it is. Calm down, Kitten.” She pats my shoulder. “Just got a text from Merrill.”

“I love Merrill,” I say, very seriously.

“What?” Carver snaps.

“We all love Merrill,” Isabela says. “Anyway, she asked if you wanted to go on a candle run with her, Garrett.”

“What’s a candle run?!” Carver’s so damn grumpy.

“It’s when you buy, like, a million scented candles,” I say. “Then you light them all at once and it’s heaven.”

No one says anything.

“I’m going to ask again.” Carver breaks the silence. “Is it too late to turn back?”

“Yes, it’s too late!” I frown as a bright pink car cuts in front of us. “Ass.”

“What did you call me?!”

“I was talking to the car that cut in front of us!” I shake my head. “You’re so _defensive_ , Carver!”

He huffs.

I was partially talking to him, to be honest.

He doesn’t need to know that.

“Kitten! Do you want to go on the candle run or not?!” Isabela kicks the back of my seat.

“Of course I do! That goes without saying!” I glare at her through the rearview mirror. “Stop kicking me! That’s bad car conduct.”

Isabela sticks her tongue out at me and resumes her texting – likely responding to Merrill.

“I hope she takes me to her hippie store,” I say.

“The one with the mirror?” Fenris asks.

“The one with the mirror.” I nod.

“Is that more MMO-talk?” Bethany asks.

“No, Sunshine, not this time,” Isabela replies.

“Huh. What makes the mirror so important?” Bethany’s questioning _everything_ today. “ Why is it _the_ mirror?”

“Because it’s broken, and she’s trying to fix it, for some reason,” I say.

That reminds me of the first one-on-one conversation I had with Fenris, when Merrill ran off to ‘work on the mirror.’

I chuckle.

“Why are you _chuckling_?”

“Bethany! So many questions!” I chuckle some more.

“Hey! It’s good to be curious,” Isabela purrs. “ _Wonderful_ , in fact.”

“No! Not this again.” I know _exactly_ what she’s doing.

Isabela grumbles inaudibly.

“Garrett?” Fenris asks. He’s still going through my iPod. It’s… Unnerving.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure if it’s insensitive to ask this,” he says. “But why the fuck do you have something entitled _A Musical Song for Squirrels Who Died While Crossing the Street_ on your iPod?”

I don’t answer immediately, mostly because I’m not sure how to.

No one says anything. They’re all letting that new piece of Garrett-trivia sink in.

Then there’s a giggle from Bethany.

Carver laughs, and then quickly tries to disguise it as a coughing fit.

Isabela, though?

“What the _fuck_ , Garrett!” She’s laughing hysterically. “ _Squirrels_ … What the fuck?!”

I steal a glance at Fenris… He’s smirking… I start laughing, because he’s such a jerk, but in the best way.

And then… Everyone’s laughing. Openly. Even Carver.

We’re all laughing because of my damn squirrel song.

“Should I play it?” Fenris asks.

“No! Don’t play it!” I’m laughing so hard. “Stop making me laugh, I’m driving!”

“Why do you _have_ this?” God, he’s so incredulous!

“I need to pull over,” I wheeze.

“Garrett! We demand answers!” Bethany exclaims.

“Okay… Okay.” I somehow manage to compose myself… I’m resisting the urge to laugh more… “I saw it on iTunes and I felt compelled to buy it.”

“What?” Carver’s not satisfied by this, it seems.

“I had to get it in honor of all the fallen squirrels,” I say. “Don’t they just break your heart?”

“You’re so weird, Garrett,” Bethany says.

“What would you have done in my position?!”

“I definitely wouldn’t have spent real, actual money on a song about _fallen squirrels_!” She retorts.

“You’re a bunch of monsters,” I say, very melodramatically.

I fully intend to lament some more, but Fenris _betrays_ me and presses the _Play_ button.

When I realize, I let out one of my well-known Garrett-shouts.

Isabela starts shrieking about how she’s going to download this song _immediately_ when she has a stable Wi-Fi connection.

We’re not even halfway there yet.  
  


~  
  


As Carver bites into his third hamburger, I’m wondering if we’ll ever get to Merrill’s.

We’re at a rest stop, and we have around an hour of driving left.

Stopping here was my idea. After a certain point, I get _incredibly_ jittery while driving. My hands shake and I start wanting to press all of the buttons in my car… Like an excitable infant.

An excitable infant who can _drive_.

It’s a dangerous combination.

I tear my eyes away from the horror that is Carver eating and manage to spot Fenris across the food court. Carver and I lunged for the first fast-food booth we saw. Fenris is a bit pickier, I guess.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying he’s a picky eater or anything. I actually have no idea if he is.

I’m just saying that he has… _Standards_.

Those are totally foreign to me – at least in regards to eating.

A woman approaches him with a plate filled with food samples. He glares at her. She keeps bugging him to take one.

He glares some more.

_So personable._

I smile.

“Hrop machin hrrat frase,” Carver says – his mouth is full of food. _Gross_.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” I reply. “Do I need to get Mom on the phone? Does she need to teach you about proper meal etiquette? Aren’t you, like, 18?”

He swallows what he’s eating. “I’m 21, dumbass. And I _said_ … Stop making that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you make when you look at him,” Carver says. “It’s way too…”

“…Adorable?” I ask. “Is it too adorable? Carver, we’ve been over this – I can’t help how adorable I–"

“No. You make your mancrush too obvious.” He stuffs the rest of the burger into his mouth, then wastes no time in unwrapping Burger #4.

“Carver, _mancrush_ is a word that straight men use to protect their fragile heterosexuality,” I say, effectively dodging this _criticism_. “Please tell me you don’t use that word regularly. It’s repulsive. Stop using it. Your older brother commands you to stop it right now.”

He doesn’t reply.

“I’m so serious!” I grab my bottle of Diet Coke and knock some back. I can’t do _boy talk_ with Carver, mostly because it’s akin to talking to a solid brick wall that’s somehow capable of judging me. I need to change the subject. “Hey, have you seen Isabela and Bethany?”

“They went to the bathroom together,” Carver says.

Okay, no. Isabela would never stoop that low. She would never hit on my sister in a grimy rest-stop ladies’ room.

…Or would she?

I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her a text.  
  
  


**Garrett** (11:37am):  
Where are you??? where did you take my sister!!!!  


  
I get a reply almost immediately.

 

 **Isabela** (11:37am):  
ladies room. sunshines brushing her hair rn and telling me abt leandras luv of spagetti  
WHATS WRONG W U  
WHO DO U THINK I AM GARRETT MALCOLM HAWKE  >:(  


**Garrett** (11:37am):  
U mean ‘spaghetti’  & FINE SORRY I WAS JUST WORRIED  


**Isabela** (11:37am):  
UMMMM IDGAF ABT SPELLING  
WHO DO U THINK U ARE? ANDERS???

 

I almost choke on my Diet Coke. 

**Garrett** (11:38am):  
SORRY. my deepest, most sincere apologies  


**Isabela** (11:38am):  
FINE we r leaving the ladies room now ok see u soon  


  
“They’re on their way over,” I tell Carver.

Carver finishes up Burger #4 (luckily, that’s the final one) and Fenris finally walks over to us. He takes a seat next to me and is food-less.

“Nothing?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I had a big breakfast.” He smiles.

“True!” I’m smiling, too. Very goofily, I’m sure. “That was a while ago, though.”

“I’m a light eater,” Fenris replies.

“Ah. Unlike Carver,” I say. “He just ate four burgers in five minutes. I’m not kidding. His stomach is essentially a black hole.”

“I’m right here,” Carver says.

“It must run in the family, then.” Fenris totally ignores him.

“Oh, ha-ha! Very funny!” I nudge him with my elbow.

“ _Still_ right here,” Carver grumbles.

“Hey, boys!” Isabela calls out. I turn around and see her pulling Bethany along. They squeeze past a particularly rowdy bunch of college-aged guys (they’re all wearing tank tops with various Greek symbols all over them – _lovely_ ) and rush over to us. “What, you ate already?!”

“It’s the _Hawke appetite_ , evidently,” Fenris says.

“Shit. I don’t know what I want.” Isabela surveys the food court. “Ugh, everything looks like _shit_.”

“We’re at a rest stop. Did you expect gourmet dining?” I’m eyeing her hand, which is still holding onto Bethany’s from when they ran over together.

“This stuff is all _ambrosia_ , Bela,” Bethany says. “I want _everything_.”

“Don’t blow all of your convention money on food,” I say.

“I won’t!” Bethany sticks her tongue out at me. “I’m not _you_.”

“I’ve never done that,” I say.

“No, but when I sent you out to buy more paint, you ended up buying several dozen bags of chips instead, and it’s basically the same –"

“Go get your food, Bethany!” No one needs to hear that particular story… (Also, those chips are for the _long_ car ride from Merrill’s house… And the convention itself… So I’m really not that bad).

“Yes. Good idea. Let’s get a move on,” Isabela says. Her and Bethany turn towards the food booths and start walking off, still hand-in-hand. I can still hear them talking as they walk off.

“So, Sunshine. Do you share your brothers’ love of eating everything in sight?” Isabela asks.

“No way!” Bethany retorts.

What a liar. She totally does.

She can be worse than Carver, sometimes.

Isabela can probably tell that she’s lying.

“They’ve hit it off,” Fenris comments.

“That’s one word for it,” Carver mumbles.

“One word for _what_?” I ask.

Fenris pats my shoulder. “Give it time, Hawke.”

Give what time?

I stare at him; he just shakes his head and smirks.

“I feel like I’m third wheeling,” Carver grumbles. “Or… Fifth-wheeling. Is that a thing?”

 _No!_ Fenris is right here!

I gave Bethany the “don’t-creep-Fenris-out-because-he-doesn’t-know-about-my-crush” warning, not Carver.

I figured I was safe with Carver.

Dammit, Carver!

Okay. Play it cool, Garrett. Don’t look at Fenris. Do _not_ look at Fenris.

I look at Fenris.

Both of his eyebrows are raised.

 _This is fine_!

“It could be a thing,” I squeak. “I mean, it’s an odd number, right? Five? Three’s an odd number, too. Things with… Wheels… Usually have even numbers. Right?”

“Right,” Carver says.

“Unless it’s a tricycle, or something. A – A five wheeled –” Aerosmith’s _I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing_ starts playing.

My phone! An escape!

I grab my phone and answer it. “H-Hello?!”

“Hawke.”

“Aveline!” My goddess has saved me. I can always count on her. “What’s up? Did you get to Merrill’s place yet?”

“We’re still on our way… In a department store now, though.” She sighs. “Varric had to pick something up. I’m not sure what, he’s taking a while. It better be legal.”

“I’m sure it is,” I say, even though I’m not sure. Varric works in mysterious ways…

“Anders and I were waiting for him. Then Anders started trying on various hats and making obscure references.” Aveline sounds tired. “It pissed me off, so I went back to Varric’s car. And now… Here I am.”

“Obscure references?” I snort.

“He kept tipping the brim of his hat and calling me his lady,” Aveline says. “I swear, Hawke… I can tolerate a lot of _bullshit_ , but…”

“He’s just joking around,” I say. “We’re at a rest stop right now, too.”

“When are you going to get there? At Merrill’s, I mean.”

“In about two hours, give or take,” I say.

“How’s Fenris?” She asks.

“Fenris is fine,” I say. Fenris – who was spacing out, I guess – kind of snaps to attention at the sound of his name. He blinks a few times and nods.

“Good. Keep it that way,” Aveline says. “Isabela said that you’ve been great – I was surprised.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly, taking another sip of Diet Coke.

“I’ll throw you a bone: Varric said that he’s calling an _Operation_ meeting the moment he can. Not sure where we’ll send Fenris for that, but you know how Varric is.” Aveline chuckles.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I say. I’m trying to be as vague in my replies as possible – I don’t want to cue Fenris into anything… “I miss you! I haven’t talked to everyone in _forever_ –“

“Soon you’ll be sick of us, Hawke. Oh, _Christ_. I have to go.” I can hear her scrambling around. “Anders bought the bloody hat. I’m done, Hawke. I’m going to –“

The line cuts off.

I end the phone call. “I think Anders is tormenting Aveline,” I say.

“I don’t know who either of those people are,” Carver says.

“Aveline would win in a fight against Anders,” Fenris adds. “She’ll be fine.”

“True.” Okay, the comment that Carver made seems to have… Faded away.

It never happened. Never. There’s no… Fifth-wheeling. Mostly because there’s… No couple.

Nope. No couples, here.

Fenris and I aren’t a couple.

I scan the food court again. Isabela and Bethany seem to be critiquing a pizza booth.

They are also not a couple.

Then it hits me.

“Wait, do you think Isabela actually wants to _date_ Bethany?!”

  


~  
  


I remained in shock for the duration of our rest stop.

Isabela and Bethany shared a meat pizza. It was Isabela’s idea, obviously. Bethany ate more than half of it, thus confirming the fact that she was totally lying about not having the Hawke appetite.

I just kind of sat there, visibly alarmed. Fenris kept giving me very sympathetic looks, which I appreciated.

He also told me that it’ll be okay.

So… It’ll be okay.

It’s not that I don’t trust Isabela. I just can’t wrap my head around _anyone_ potentially dating my little sister.

There were so many signs! They’re crashing down on me! How could I be so _dense_?!

I thought that she was joking! Isabela hits on everyone.

Anyway, once they were finished, I just repressed everything.

We all went back to the car, and the rest of the drive passed by without much incident.

Now… We’re almost there. Except I’ve never been to Merrill’s house, so…

“Which number did she say, again?” I ask.

“42,” Fenris replies. “It’s a small, yellow house, with a garden and a green gate.”

“All of these houses are small and yellow,” I say. “And all of them have green gates!”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Then… Look out for number 42. Also, a garden.”

“I think that says 28,” Bethany says, pointing to a house right across from the truck.

“No, it says 18,” I grumble.

“Oops.” Bethany lowers her hand.

“I’ll text Daisy.” Isabela gets right to it.

“Should I pull over?” I always feel nervous driving around neighborhoods I don’t know well… Mostly because I feel really creepy, driving all slow and squinting at all of the houses.

“No, keep driving!” Bethany leans in between my seat and Fenris’ seat.

“Is Carver still knocked out?” I can’t see him from the rearview mirror.

Bethany turns around and checks. “Yep.” She leans back in. “What a baby. He ate so much food, then fell right asleep…”

“He’s essentially a large infant,” I say.

“Says the man who frequently eats chips until he passes out,” Fenris says.

“Hey!” I laugh. “Only when I’m playing the MMO.”

Bethany grins. “You guys are so funny, with your nerdy references.”

“That wasn’t a reference! People need to stop thinking everything’s a reference.” I steer the truck along a particularly sharp turn.

“Daisy says to just keep going straight,” Isabela says. “Also, she’ll wait outside for us, so don’t bother with whatever this… _Situation_ …is.”

 _This situation_ is currently Fenris, Bethany and I, sitting at the edge of our respective seats, squinting at these houses in an attempt to work out where the hell we are.

(They’re very pleasant houses, though.)

“Okay. Sounds good.” I sit back. “Is Sebastian there yet?”

“Nope,” Isabela replies. “Choir Boy’s taking his sweet time. Aveline, Anders and Varric aren’t replying to my texts, either.”  
  
“I assume Aveline has her hands full,” Fenris says. “Keeping the other two out of legal trouble, I mean.”

“Too real, Fenris. Too real.” Isabela leans between Fenris’ seat and my seat, too, effectively pushing Bethany to the side.

“Hey!” Bethany protests, grinning.

“Shh, Sunshine! I want to see, too.” Isabela points at the house we’re currently driving past. “Ooh, look! There’s a statue of naked man over there.”

“Thanks, Isabela,” I say, driving past said statue.

“Hush, you! I’m appreciating the _art_.” She smirks. “Don’t you know how _hard_ it is to –”

“ _Thank you_ , Isabela,” I repeat.

“You’re most welcome.” She cackles.

 “Wait...” Fenris says. “Is that…?”

“Daisy!” Isabela yells. “Straight ahead!” She points forward this time.

And, sure enough… There’s someone in the distance, standing in the middle of the road.

Someone who’s definitely Merrill.

“Merrill!” I yell. I blow my horn a few times, then remember that Carver’s passed out in the back seat. “Did that wake up Mr. Grumpy?”

“I doubt.” Bethany squeezes past Isabela and checks on him. “Nope. Still out cold… And drooling.”

“Should we wake him up?” I ask. Merrill’s waving with a gusto in the distance and, also, hopping in place - I can’t help but laugh.

“No. It’s payback time,” Bethany says.

“Payback for what?” Fenris asks.

“I dunno.” Bethany shrugs. “Sibling stuff.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

Merrill gets out of the road as the truck approaches; she won’t stop waving and smiling.

And when Merrill smiles, she _smiles_. Her teeth are so white. She has the _definition_ of a blinding smile.

“Ooh! You’re here!” She cheers. “You’re finally here!”

“Hey, Merrill!” I laugh. Fenris does a little wave.

“Daisy! My adorable little Daisy!” Meanwhile, Isabela’s got her window down and is practically dangling out of it.

“Control your _body_ , Isabela!” I say. “Bethany, drag her back in the truck!”

Bethany laughs and pulls Isabela back in; Isabela pretends to put up a fight, but sits back down.

“Where should I park?” I ask Merrill.

“Right this way!” Merrill points to her house. The gate’s open, and there’s a pretty wide front yard. Half of it is a garden, filled with all sorts of plants… And the other half is paved.

“Should I park outside?” I ask. “Since we’re heading out again tomorrow, I mean.” Sebastian’s car and Varric’s car can definitely fit in there (both cars are apparently average-sized); I don’t think they could if the truck was in there, though…

“Sure!” Merrill nods enthusiastically.

“Dammit, you’re taking too _long_ , Kitten!” Isabela shrieks. She leans over Bethany. “Come on, Bethy, let’s get out of here!”

Bethany laughs and unlocks the truck’s door, then leaps out.

“Hey! That’s not safe! Bad car etiquette, once more!” I yell as Isabela leaps out, too; she slams the car door behind her.

Once they’re safely outside (squealing and hugging Merrill, of course… Bethany doesn’t even _know_ Merrill, and yet…), I park in front of Merrill’s house.

I look over at Fenris as I turn off the ignition.

He looks calm, but…

Maybe I’m just tired from all the driving, but he also looks kind of... Nervous.

Like… How he was this morning.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he says. “Just tired. I’ve never… Well…” His voice trails off. “We should… Go. They’re waiting.”

“Oh! Right!” Merrill! She’s waiting. “Just… You’re okay, right?”

Fenris blinks. “I said I’m fine,” he says. “Trust me. Let’s go.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and smiles, but it’s not a real smile.

I know his real smile.

That? Not a real smile.

He opens the truck’s door before I can say anything and steps out.

“Fenris!” I hear Merrill squeal. “It’s you! You’re here! Your tattoos are even prettier in person!”

I chuckle to myself as I put my car keys in my pocket, then step out of the car, too – closing the door behind me.

I walk over to where everyone’s huddled – Merrill’s thrown herself onto Fenris; she has him wrapped up in a tight hug.

Like, _really_ tight. He’s trying to hug her back but he can’t raise his arms.

Merrill frees him when she sees me.

“Oh, goodness. Oh, Garrett.” She clutches her chest. “You’re so _tall_. I forgot how tall you are! I feel like a turnip next to you!”

“An adorable turnip,” I say.

She giggles and then runs forward, wrapping her arms around me.

Merrill gives amazing hugs. She’s tiny but _strong_ … Eerily strong.

Her hair smells like strawberries.

It’s amazing.

I lift her off the ground while she hugs me, much to her delight.

“It’s still weird seeing you without the face tattoos,” I say, as I lower her back to the ground.

“You had face tattoos?!” Bethany’s amazed.

“Ah, he means my character!” Merrill pulls away from me. “Should I get face tattoos? Don’t you think those would hurt an awful lot?”

“Speaking from experience, yes,” Fenris says.

He says it lightly, but something flickers in my chest.

It’s not The Flutter. It’s… Not a good flicker. Again, not a heart condition or anything. Just…

“I don’t like pain much,” Merrill says. “I’m not very good at dealing with it.”

“You’re most definitely a blood mage, Daisy.” Isabela wraps an arm around Merrill and grins. “Not like that class _thrives_ off pain, or anything.”

“Hey! I’m the best blood mage, Isabela!” Merrill retorts.

“Of course, Daisy, of course,” Isabela pats her on the head. “I’m _loving_ your outfit, by the way.”

It’s a classic Merrill outfit. She’s wearing fluffy knitted sweater that’s too big for her; really, it’s more like a dress. It’s white and has a ton of different fairy-like characters printed all over it.

Honestly, it’s cute, but it’s also… A bit creepy. I feel like the fairies are _staring_ at me… _Judging_ me, with their beady little eyes…

Suddenly, I miss Miles.

But, anyway… She’s also wearing these dark green tights that are (somehow) glittering – and mary janes.

“Thank you, Isabela!” Merrill beams. “I was very happy this morning, and I wanted to wear something that was happy, too. So I wore this! Aren’t they cute?” She does a little twirl, showing her ensemble off. “I put the glitter on the tights, myself, you know!”

I laugh. “Of course you did.”

Merrill does an excited little clap. “I can’t _believe_ you’re all here!” She turns to Bethany. “It’s so good to meet you, too, Bethany!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Bethany says, very politely. She hasn’t left Isabela’s side…

I give Isabela a critical look. She smiles back at me.

 _Of course_ …

I glance back to Merrill and she’s staring right at me with an alarmingly serious expression.

“Uh… Merrill?”

She reaches out and clutches my hands. “I’ll do my best for you, Garrett,” she says.

 _Very seriously_.

I know she’s talking about the Operation – _in front of Fenris, holy shit_ – but… Her gaze is _powerful_ and her grip is… Really strong. It’s terrifying.

I stare back at her, slack-jawed.

“Nice one, Daisy,” Isabela says - very casually, as if nothing weird’s going on.

Fenris’ arms are folded. He looks vaguely amused.

_Please, please, please don’t tell me he’s on to the Operation…_

It’s at that very moment that I hear my truck door slam.

And before I can react to it…

“What are you _doing_?”

Carver’s standing there.

Shit, I totally forgot about him!

(I’m tired, okay? I’ve been driving for _hours_!)

His hair is in a state of disarray…

Okay, actually, his entire _existence_ is in a state of disarray. His shirt’s all wrinkled. I think there’s some drool on his cheek.

“Carver! You woke up!” Bethany waves at him.

“Carver?” Merrill repeats.

And…

I swear, this is the most surprised I’ve ever seen Carver.

He blinks a few times.

Then he slowly reaches up to his cheek and wipes the drool (ha, knew it) off.

“I… Um…” He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to smoothen it. “Hi. I’m… Carver.”

A surprisingly pleasant introduction.

Except… His face is totally flushed, and his eyes are wide.

…I really hope I don’t look like that when I’m embarrassed.

“You were out cold, Carver!” Isabela exclaims.

“I was,” Carver says. “Thanks for waking me up.”

Isabela cracks up. “You’re most welcome.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Carver!” Merrill lets go of my hands and walks over to him. She hugs him, just like how she hugged everyone else…

Carver hugs her, too, which is definitely weird because Carver is vehemently opposed to hugs.

(Hugs that aren’t from Mom, anyway. Oh, Carver.)

He’s so flustered. I’m getting embarrassed just looking at him.

Bethany sighs and shakes her head.

Merrill lets go of him. “Garrett’s told me _so_ many funny stories about you.”

Carver glares at me. “Has he, now?”

“Yes! My very favorite one was the one with the chair legs.”

“When he fell, you mean?” Fenris asks. “I agree. That was a good one.”

“You’re welcome.” Bethany’s very proud of her pranking prowess.

“Shut it,” Carver grumbles.

“Well then, Carver stories aside!” I grin. “Can we head inside, Merrill?”

“Yes! I forgot! We have to go inside!” She laughs. “I’ll help you with the luggage!”

“You’re an angel,” Isabela saunters back over to the truck. “Merrill, I have so much _good_ stuff to show you.”

“Good stuff?” Merrill asks.

“ _Good stuff_.” Isabela winks.

Merrill gasps. “Are you talking about _dirty things_ , Isabela?!”

Isabela shrugs.

Meanwhile, Carver’s looking at the ground and is _still_ visibly flustered.

For someone who pretends to be so damn stoic all the time, he gets embarrassed _so_ easily.

I almost feel sorry for him.

 _Almost_.

~  
  


We unload the car and get set up in Merrill’s house. She doesn’t have enough beds for the whole guild, so she ended up converting her living room into what I promptly deem “The Blanket Fort Paradise.”

There are blankets everywhere. Pillows, too.

They’re all patterned differently.

One has dogs on it, and I _know_ that’s where I’m going to sleep.

“I call dibs,” I say, pointing at the blanket pile.

“Not interested in the dragons, Hawke?” Fenris asks, pointing at another set of blankets across the room.

“There’s blankets with _dragons_?!” Holy shit. “How am I supposed to choose between –”

“You can mix them up, Garrett,” Merrill says. “I don’t mind.”

Crisis averted.

“I want the cat ones,” Isabela says, sitting down on a pile of blankets with an assortment of cartoonish cats printed on them. “Just so I can piss Anders off.”

“You’re evil,” Bethany says.

“I try, Sunshine.” Isabela winks and flops over onto the blankets. “Ooh, this is downright _cozy_. Someone should join me –”

Merrill’s phone rings before I can launch into Protective-Older-Brother mode. I have no idea what song her ringtone is – it sounds like one of those high-pitched chipmunk songs you can buy from commercials.

“My phone’s been ringing all day!” She exclaims happily. “Excuse me…” She answers the call. “Yes, hello? Oh! Sebastian! Hello! …Really?! I’ll go outside now! See you soon! Yes!”

“He’s here?!” Isabela sits up. “In the flesh?!”

“Who’s Sebastian?” Bethany asks.

“He’s the Choir Boy!” Isabela chirps – unhelpfully.

“He’s a priest,” I say.

“A priest in training,” Fenris adds.

“You know a priest in training?!” Bethany stares at me, wide-eyed, as if that’s the zaniest thing she’s ever heard.

I shrug. “These things happen.”

Merrill laughs. “Well, I have to go outside and meet him! Come with me, everyone!”

Isabela groans and makes a big show out of standing back up.

Bethany and I have to grab onto her wrists and pull her.

We all walk back outside – even Carver.

A sleek white car is right outside the gate. The window rolls down, and…

Sebastian!

He’s right there.

His hair is slicked back and he looks _exactly_ like his MMO character… His blue eyes are downright _piercing_.

Piercing… Get it? Like arrows? His character’s an archer.

…Needless to say, he’s incredibly attractive.

Not my type at all, but…

“Sebastian!” Merrill squeals. She opens the gate again and runs over to him, hugging him from the car.

“Aren’t they being too friendly?” Carver grumbles.

“Aren’t _you_?” Bethany retorts.

Merrill tells Sebastian that he can park in her driveway; he obliges.

“Hello, everyone!” He smiles as he gets out of his car. 

“Choir Boy!” Isabela sings. She hugs him, too. “Your voice is even sexier in person. That accent… _Delicious_.”

Sebastian laughs. “Hello, Isabela. I can’t believe that nickname actually stuck…”

We make eye contact.

“Ah, Garrett! It’s good to see you!” He smiles and nods at me. His aura is so damn _peaceful_.

I nod back. “Yeah!  Good to see you, too!” I’m not sure if I should hug him or not, so I kind of just stand there. “I’m glad that you could make it!”

“I am, too.” He’s so serene. I can’t get over it. “And… Fenris! You’re here, too. Wonderful!”

“Yeah. It’s, uh. Wonderful.” Fenris clears his throat. I can tell that he feels awkward, too.

Sebastian, though? Not awkward at all. He turns to Bethany and Carver. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“That’s Bethany,” I say, gesturing at Bethany. “She’s my younger sister. And…” I point at Carver. “That’s Carver, my younger brother.”

Carver eyes Sebastian skeptically. “Hey,” he says.

“Hello!” Bethany, on the other hand, is very friendly.

“It’s nice to meet both of you,” Sebastian says. “It’s lovely that you’re joining your brother on his trip.”

Personally, I’m not sure if _lovely_ is the right word.

“You can come in!” Merrill says. “I’ll help you with your luggage…”

“That’s quite alright, I can manage,” Sebastian says. He opens up his car’s trunk, then pulls out a simple brown suitcase.

“I’m so excited!” Overcome with emotion, Merrill sprints back into her house, yelling something about never having so many people over at once before.

Sebastian chuckles and locks his car.

We all head back inside, too.

“After you, Miss Hawke,” Sebastian says, stepping aside so that Bethany can go inside before him.

“Miss Hawke…?” Bethany stares up at him in shock. “…I’ve never been called anything that _fancy_.”

“Truly? You’re such a lovely woman,” Sebastian says. “I couldn’t possibly risk being overly casual with you.”

“I…” Bethany’s wide-eyed and her face is getting redder and redder. “…Oh my.”

Is that strangely fish-like, embarrassed expression a Hawke family thing?

If it is, I’m not entirely proud of that.

I hope Fenris never saw me making that face.

Hell, I hope _no one_ ever saw me making that face.

Bethany dashes inside, and Fenris grins.

 “Sebastian?” Isabela calls out. “Hey, sweet thing.” She wraps an arm around him as they walk inside. “Let’s have a little talk.”  
  


~  
  


Merrill got a text from Anders saying that he, Aveline and Varric were behind schedule (with no further explanation as to why), so we decided to go on our Candle Run.

Carver wanted to come with us, but I protested. That sounds mean, but I don’t trust his candle sensibilities. He’d probably linger by all of the “manly” candles, such as Man Town, and demand that we purchase some.

Why would I _ever_ want Man Town when I can have Cinnamon Vanilla?

Anyway, Candle Runs are a Merrill-and-Garrett sort of thing.

So… Merrill and I walked to Sabrae and bought an unholy amount of candles. We split the total cost between us.

Marethari was thrilled.

Also, Tamlen was there. He’s covering most of Merrill’s shifts while she’s away.

He had soup with him – when I (correctly) guessed that it was cucumber soup, he got spooked out and left for the break room.

I don’t blame him, to be honest.

Merrill also showed me the broken mirror that she’s so incredibly hellbent on fixing… After I saw it, I totally understood why.

It looked like something you’d find in the MMO, or some other type of tacky fantasy game. It had all of these intricate patterns carved along its frame, with wooden extensions wrapping around it…

“And you’re sure that this thing isn’t cursed?” I asked Merrill. “You’re sure that fixing it won’t open another dimension? Like, a dimension leading into Hell, or something?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Merrill said. “But it would be quite exciting if it did, wouldn’t it? I’d get so very famous!”

I didn’t know how to reply to that, so I just laughed nervously, and also reminded myself to never get on Merrill’s bad side.

As we left, dozens of candles in tow, I told Merrill that Sabrae was _definitely_ a hippie store. My suspicions were confirmed!

She just laughed, but I could tell that she loves working there.

Now we’re back in front of her house, and…

There’s another car parked in the front yard, right next to Sebastian’s.

I look at Merrill. “Did Anders lie about being late?”

She blinks a few times. “Hm? Why would you ask that?”

I jerk my head towards the additional car. “There’s another car there.”

Merrill stares at it. “Oh,” she says.

We just stand there for a while, staring at the car.

“He tricked me!” Merrill suddenly wails. “I’m going to kill him!”

“Don’t kill Anders!” I start laughing. “Merrill!”

It’s too late – she’s scurrying off to her front door. 

“Be careful with the candles!” I call out after her. “Put the candles _down_ first!” I don’t want them to break! I jog behind her in an attempt to catch up.

As I enter the house and struggle to close the door behind me, Merrill’s already in the living room.

“Anders, you tricked me!” She’s screeching.

I walk over there, too, and, sure enough – Anders, Aveline, and Varric have arrived.

All of their stuff is already in the room, too. I guess they’ve been here for a while.

Isabela’s practically _draped_ herself on Aveline. Varric has a flask in his hand and is standing next to Fenris.

And… Anders is facing the wrath of Merrill.

Merrill rests the candle-filled bags from Sabrae on the floor and tackles him.

“Ow! Merrill! It was just a joke!” He’s laughing really hard.

“Hawke! Daisy!” Varric’s voice is even more soothing in person. It’s like… Honey. _Holy shit_.

“ _Varric_!” I yell. I put my bags on the ground, too, and race over to him.

Varric’s way shorter than me. I think he’s even shorter than Merrill. I have to bend down to hug him.

He pats me on the back. “Good to see you, Hawke. Did the drive treat you alright?”

“Yeah!” I pull away from him. “You guys – I – We’re all here, what the –” My mind is racing. “Anders! Where’s your hat?”

Anders snorts. Merrill is literally dangling from his shoulders. “Hello to you too, Hawke. I bought it as a joke. Aveline stole it.”

“Stole it to throw it away,” Aveline adds.

“Of course.” I grin.

“Hawke, you need to feel Big Girl’s muscles,” Isabela croons.

“Get off me, slattern,” Aveline grumbles. She pushes Isabela away.

“Okay, but, I totally do,” I say.

“I want to, also!” Merrill exclaims. Anders walks over to me – Merrill’s still attached to him. Her feet are off the floor.

“You’re all beyond help,” Aveline says. “But, anyway. Hello, Hawke. Merrill.”

“Hello!” Merrill finally lets go of Anders. “I’m _so_ happy that you found your way here! I would’ve waited out in the street for you, but Anders _tricked_ me!”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Anders asks.

Merrill pouts.

“Guys!” I yell. “Wicked Grace! …And additions.” I wave at Bethany and Carver.

Bethany giggles. Carver stares.

It dawns upon me that he might not even know what Wicked Grace is.

Well, whatever.

“We’re all here! We made it!”

“Are you making a toast, Kitten?” Isabela asks. “Because, if you are, I need a drink. I’m _tragically_ sober, as it stands, and –”

“You want some, Riviani?” Varric holds his flask up.

“Yes, please!” Isabela sings.

“I’m not making a toast!” I holler. “I’m just – I’m so _emotional_ -”

“Don’t pressure him, Bela,” Bethany says. “You’ll make him cry. I mean it.”

“It’s okay to let it out,” Sebastian says gently.

“I have tissues if you need them, Garrett,” Merrill says.

“I’m not going to cry!” I sniff.

“Garrett. Don’t.” Carver is having _none_ of this.

“Save the tearful toasts for later, Hawke,” Varric says. “When we’re all ranging from ‘pleasantly buzzed’ to ‘completely trashed.’”

“Varric gets it,” Isabela says.

Everyone laughs.

And Fenris… He’s smiling.

I want to talk to him, but --

“Now, we have to set up the room even more!” Merrill interrupts my train of thought. “Garrett, it’s time for the candles!”

...Oh, right. The Candle Run had a greater purpose.

We’re going to make this room into a scented candle heaven. Have I mentioned how much I _love_ scented candles?!

“The candles…?” Aveline frowns. “What are you going to do with the candles?”

“You’ll see,” I answer. “It’s going to be _magnificent_.”

  


~  
  


“This is a fire hazard,” Aveline says.

“This is amazing!” I say.

“This is… Something,” Fenris says.

Merrill and I strategically placed candles all over the room. We also lit them, while everyone else was talking about their car rides over here.

(As it turns out, Aveline did _not_ have to prevent Varric and Anders from getting into any legal trouble. She _did_ have to stop Varric from buying an entire store’s worth of liquor. Meanwhile, Sebastian got deeply involved in chauffeuring a little old lady around, hence why he was a bit behind schedule. I swear, he gets more angelic by the second.)

And now… We’re all admiring the Blanket Fort Paradise.

“Why does Isabela get the cat blankets?” Anders grumbles.

“Hush,” Isabela says. “They’re just blankets.”

“They’re cat blankets!” Anders whines.

They bicker a bit. Then Merrill fusses over Bethany, because apparently Bethany’s “very cute,” and Merrill _needs_ to braid her hair.

Varric and Anders get into a debate about MMO economy stuff, which I don’t care about _at all_.

Sebastian occasionally adds his two cents.

I’m just sitting there, zoning out, when Fenris stands up.

“Fenris?” Merrill looks up at him.

Varric and Anders are still going at it… Isabela’s drinking out of Varric’s flask; I think she stole it while he wasn’t looking.

“Sorry, I… Need some air,” he says.

“The garden is the best place for air!” Merrill exclaims. “Trust me!”

“Thanks,” Fenris says. He walks out of the living room; I hear the front door close.

And the _second_ it does, Isabela throws a pillow at me.

“Bwurgh!” I say, intelligently, as it hits my face. “What the hell?!”

“Follow him! Right now!” She says.

“I set that up _so_ well, Garrett,” Merrill adds. “You have to follow him.”

“What? What happened?!” Anders is out of the loop.

“You’ve got this, Hawke,” Varric says. “Keep the Elf company.”

“W-What?” I look at everyone frantically. “I mean, I want to…” He’s been pretty quiet, lately…  “But… Is that too much? Too… Clingy?”

“Not really,” Sebastian says. “You don’t have to do anything to him.”

“Or make out,” Isabela adds.

“Fine! I’ll go keep him company.” I stand up. "...There'll be no making out."

Isabela rolls her eyes. “So, if Fenris wanted to make out with you, you’d push him away?”

“That’s irrelevant!” I stomp out of the room as she laughs.

I open the front door and walk outside.

It’s already evening… The sun’s setting, so the sky’s orange. Merrill’s neighborhood is so _pretty_.

Fenris is standing in the garden. His arms are folded, and he’s looking at a particularly tall sunflower…

“Hey!” I say.

He jumps a little.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” I walk over to him. “I wanted some air, too.”

“Ah. I see,” Fenris says.

I stand next to him and look up at the sky (it’s seriously so _damn_ pretty…).

A silence settles between us.

“I’m sorry,” Fenris says. “I don’t want to worry you.”

Huh?

“What?” I shake my head. “You’re not worrying me! I just…” My voice trails off.

I just wanted to make sure that he was okay.

“Good.” He’s not looking directly at me…

“Um, I’m not _worried_ , but… Are you… Okay?” I scratch the back of my head. “I know I asked that earlier! But… I just want to make sure.”

“Yes. I’m fine. Thanks.” His gaze finally meets mine. “I’m just… Overwhelmed, I suppose. I’ve never done anything like this.”

“You’ve never gone on a road trip before?” I ask.

“I’ve been on trips,” Fenris says. “I’m just… Not used to _this_. I’ve never been close to anyone. Not this type of _close_ , anyway.”

“Ah,” I say. “I understand.”

“Hm.”

We stand in silence for a while. An old guy walks by the front of Merrill’s house – he’s walking a dog. He gives us a very good-natured wave. When he’s gone, I finally decide to speak up.

“I’m really, really awkward, Fenris.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “What?”

I start laughing. “See? I’m awkward as _hell_. But… What I’m saying is… I understand how you feel. Believe me. I’m not just saying that.”

I take a deep breath.

“I met everyone when I was in college. We stuck to text chat for a long time. And… One day, Varric proposed that we take stuff to the _next level_. He wanted to video chat for the first time.”

I run my hand through my hair. “I was _so_ nervous, Fenris. We were friends, but they’d never seen me before, and I just thought that… When they saw me, when they heard my voice… They’d think I was just an awkward loser. And don’t tell me that I _am_ an awkward loser!” I add, playfully.

Fenris grins.

“Anyway... I was panicking. I almost backed out of talking to them. But… Well, I bit the bullet.” I shrug. “And now… Here we are. We’re all at Merrill’s house, hanging out in a Blanket Fort Paradise. I’m so incredibly grateful that I didn’t close that chat window. I mean, I had quite a track record for fucking things up in college. I guess I got _something_ right.

So… If you’re feeling like I did back then… You don’t have to worry.” I smile at him. “They’re good people, and you’re, like, a million times less awkward than I am.”

Fenris laughs. “I don’t know about that,” he says.

“You totally are! I’m the most awkward person in the _world_.”

Fenris shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “My situation is different,” he says.

“How?” I ask him.

He sighs. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“I _do_ want to know,” I say. “I always want to know more about you.”

Okay, I didn’t intend to let that slip out, but…

Fenris furrows his brow. “I don’t think you know what that means.”

“It doesn’t matter what it means,” I say. “I… just want to know more about you.”

He looks up at me.

“Why?” He asks. It’s a _strong_ question. His voice doesn’t shake, it doesn’t waver. He genuinely wants to know why.

“Because…” I can feel way too many words crawling up my throat; I can’t do it, I can’t say it, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself. “Because I li-”

There’s suddenly a scream.

And all the words that were crawling up my throat just… Die.

I turn my head towards the front door.

Fenris does, too.

“Holy shit! Fire!” Isabela’s screaming. “Oh my _fucking_ god!”

…Fire?!

Fenris and I immediately dash back inside.

“What happened?!” I yell. “Where’s the fire?!”

“It’s out,” Aveline says. “It was small.”

“What?” Fenris is just as confused as I am.

“Isabela, you _lit me on fire_!” Anders yells. He’s also drenched in water.

“Blondie, I’m sorry! It was an accident!” I can’t tell if Isabela’s amused or horrified, but she’s talking _really_ loudly. “I didn’t – I kicked the candle –“

“It fell on me! Holy shit! I almost died!” One sleeve of Anders’ shirt is black and charred. “I almost _died_! I was almost burnt alive!”

“I had a water bottle,” Aveline says. “I dumped it on him. It really wasn’t a big deal.”

“Aveline Vallen!” Anders is having a crisis. “I was on _fire_!”

 Aveline shrugs. “It was just your shirt. And I knew it would happen.”

“And so our trip does _not_ have a body count,” Varric says. He’s across the room, standing by a window – when the fire on Anders started, he probably bolted across there. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Not ever!” Bethany exclaims.

And… That’s when it happens.

Fenris snorts.

And the snort evolves into a laugh.

A real laugh. A full-bellied laugh.

He covers his mouth, but he’s obviously laughing. He doubles over.

Fenris’ laugh is the most contagious thing. I start laughing, too… Really loudly.

Eventually, we’re all laughing.

Even Carver… And Anders, who, for all intents and purposes, is the closest thing to a victim, here.

“I can’t believe this,” Anders wheezes. “I can’t believe it. First you light me on fire, then you _laugh_ at me… Is this because I’m a mage?!”

Isabela groans. “Stop that!” She says. “Lore doesn’t apply here! This is the real world, you nerd!” She wraps her arms around him. “I’m sorry!”

“I’m a mage, too!” Merrill chirps.

“This is true; she is,” Anders says, as he hugs Isabela back. “It’s okay, Isabela.”

“I told you this would happen,” Aveline says. “This room is a fire hazard.”

“Wait –” I wheeze. “Is the candle okay?!”

That does it.

We’re all laughing again. It’s too much. 

Fenris is laughing so hard, he’s partially leaning on me.

I wrap an arm around him so that we don’t fall over from laughing so damn hard.

A few minutes ago, I was on the brink of confessing to him… But this? This is better.

This is what he needed.

But, as he clutches onto me and tries to collect himself, we make eye contact.

His green eyes are a bit watery – he was laughing _that_ hard.

And… Honestly?

I really do like him.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just have to screech out a HUGE thank you to mary aka snoot for beta-ing this chapter! mary is absolutely wonderful. also, shout out to mary's music library, which is... unique. let's put it that way. (all of the songs mentioned in this chapter are 100% real.)


	19. Chapter 19

“Garrett! Isabela keeps _throwing_ things on me!”

“Stop complaining, Anders! It’s childish!”

“ _You’re_ the one throwing things on me!”

“Both of you need to _shut up_ ,” Aveline snaps.

“I second that,” Fenris mutters. His eyes are closed, and he’s leaning against the window.

I glare into my rearview mirror. “I agree. Shut up.”

“You’re all so uptight,” Isabela says.

“First she lights me on fire…” Anders grumbles. “Then she throws _garbage_ on me…”

Isabela flicks another chocolate bar wrapper behind her seat. It hits Anders in the face. He screams my name again.

Fenris sighs. I sigh, too.

The car trip was fun for the first three hours. By the fourth? Chaos. Absolute chaos. I can _feel_ a headache coming on.

“Do we have any more juice?” Merrill asks. She’s sitting in the fold-down seat of the second row – right next to Bethany.

“No idea,” I say. “Who has the snack bag?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Anders says.

“Sorry. Who has one of the _many_ snack bags that are circulating around this truck?”

“I have one,” Aveline says. “There are just chocolate-covered nuts in here. Not a word, Isabela.”

Isabela giggles.

“What about the one with juice?” Merrill peers behind her seat.

“ _Chocolate-covered nuts_ ,” Isabela says.

“I said not a word!” Aveline, who’s sitting next to Anders and is therefore in close proximity to Isabela, swats at her head.

“Garrett, Aveline’s swinging her giant, calloused hands at me!” Isabela wails.

“That’s mean, Bela,” Bethany says.

Isabela pouts.

“She managed to shut you up?” Aveline muses. “This _must_ be –”

“That’s enough out of you, Vallen!” Isabela hollers. “Go eat some nuts!”

Sebastian says something, but I have no idea what, since Aveline’s screaming at Isabela again. He’s also sitting in the back, between Varric and Carver (who are both currently asleep, _somehow_ ), so that doesn’t help.

“What was that?” I call out.

“I found the juice boxes!” He repeats. Merrill cheers.

Sebastian passes the bag to Anders, who then passes it to Merrill. She rummages through it.

“You’ve been driving for a while,” Fenris says. It takes me a second to register that he’s talking to me.

“Oh, yeah. Uh.” I clear my throat. “It’s nothing.”

My ass is numb and a headache is definitely coming on and _Anders please stop screaming it’s just a damn candy wrapper_ , but… It’s nothing.

“I’d offer to switch with you, but, you know.” He shrugs. “No license.”

“That’s smart,” I say. “I totally underestimated the amount of distance that we need to cover…”

“It happens.” Fenris kind of snuggles against the car window and I feel a pang of jealousy.

I’m jealous of a window. This is a new level of pathetic… Being jealous when Fenris was playing with Miles was bad enough.

At least Miles is a _living creature_.

...

I miss Miles.

“Apple or grape?” Merrill asks.

“Apple,” Bethany says with conviction.

Apparently, they’re drinking juice together.

Meanwhile, Isabela’s back is to me… She’s dangling over her seat, facing Anders and Aveline.

“Bad car etiquette,” I mumble. I meant to shout it, but… I’m exhausted, and I need to stay alert. Eyes on the road, and all that.

“Garrett, can we plug my iPod in?” Merrill asks.

“Um, no offense, but we don’t need to hear your weird ritual music,” Anders says.

“It’s not weird!” Merrill protests. She didn’t deny the ‘ritual’ part, though.

“Go for it, Merrill,” I say, largely because I don’t want another fight to break out.

Fenris unplugs my iPod for me – I don’t even have to ask him to do it – and Merrill plugs hers in.

Airy music with a lot of high-pitched tones and echoing vocals that I can’t quite make out fills the car. Merrill always did have pretty obscure taste in music…

Not like I’m one to talk, though.

“I like this band,” Fenris says.

“You know them?!” Merrill and I exclaim in unison. Merrill launches herself between our seats, almost dropping her juice box on me in the process.

“Aren’t they lovely?!” Merrill starts gushing about the band to Fenris. I have no idea who they are – they’re definitely not singing in a language that I’m familiar with. Fenris says that he saw them live, once.

“Like I said,” Anders says. “Too weird. Is that even English?”

“It’s Icelandic!” Merrill’s very excited.

“Of course it is,” Anders says.

“They have a special language that they use in some songs, too,” Merrill says. “It’s secret, though. I don’t understand it. No one except the band does. Oh, you know, I can’t speak any languages except English. What about you, Fenris?”

“I know a few,” Fenris says.

“You’re multilingual?” I ask. Somehow, it’s unsurprising.

He shrugs.

“He’s got a good memory,” Sebastian calls out from the back. “He knows the entire Chant of Light, and also as much Qunlat as possible.”

“The devs are so uncommitted to their own lore,” Anders grumbles.

“Qunlat?” Bethany asks. “What’s that…?”

“MMO rubbish.” Isabela answers her. She’s still dangling over her seat, but she’s peering over her own shoulder so that she can stare at Fenris. “And, technically, the Chant of Light’s in English, isn’t it?”

“It’s still hard to memorize,” Sebastian says, with a sigh. “If I knew I was going to leave that guild, I wouldn’t have ever _learnt_ it…”

“It’s pretty, though!” Merrill manages to find the silver lining.

“What languages can you speak, Fenris?” Granted, I don’t even know if English is his native language… I glance at him. “ _Real_ languages, I mean. Not MMO stuff.”

Fenris is looking out the window – avoiding eye contact with the rest of us. I’m starting to wonder if he has some problem with getting too much attention, but… I don’t think that’s the case.

Hell, I still don’t really know what’s been up with him. I was close to finding out yesterday, I think, but Isabela interrupted us with the damn _fire_ and we never brought it up again.

I haven’t really had the chance to try to figure him out, either…

“Latin. Russian.” Oh. Right. Languages.

Wait… What?!

“Latin?!” I echo. “ _Russian_?! Are there more?”

“Yes.” He laughs. “Some German.”

“I know German!” Anders exclaims.

“No, you don’t,” Isabela drones.

“I do! I took a German class in college.”

“Wow!” Isabela turns to face Anders again. “One _whole_ German class, at least seven years ago!”

“Unlike you, I actually remember what I learned in college!” Anders retorts.

They start bickering again. I have no idea how Varric and Carver are sleeping through this.

Well, Varric drank a lot... He has the tolerance of a god, but wine makes him sleepy.  And Carver could sleep through the Apocalypse, I’m sure.

“I should learn how to speak Icelandic,” Merrill says dreamily.

“You can do it!” Bethany cheers her on.

They’re getting along really well. I’m kind of shocked that Bethany transferred so seamlessly into my friend group, to be honest. Sometimes I feel like she somehow absorbed all of Carver’s social skills.

He’d smack me if I said that, though. I grin.                 

“I’ll throw nuts on you!” Anders screams. “I will! Don’t test me!”

“Oh dear,” Sebastian says.

“There’re so many potential comebacks to that one, Blondie,” Isabela says. “I feel like I have to sit down and select the _perfect_ one, just to honor how _utterly –_ ”

“If you come near these nuts, I’ll throw you out of this damn truck,” Aveline says. “That goes for both of you, by the way.”

“Hey! Those are technically everyone’s nuts!” Anders has a point.

“Do I have to turn this truck around?” I ask.

“Garrett, Aveline won’t give me her –”

“Anders. Don’t finish that sentence,” Fenris says.

“I knew buying those was a bad idea,” I say, gripping a bit tighter onto the steering wheel.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that Anders has the maturity of a twelve year old,” Isabela says.

“You are _not_ one to talk,” Aveline and Fenris say, in unison.

We all start laughing.

Jeez…

I’ve been driving for _hours_ , and...

I feel like a Dad.

And this is Dad’s truck, too.

Something about that connection makes me feel dizzy.

I can hear Dad’s voice in a corner of my mind, telling Carver to stop pulling on Bethany’s braids, and I smile.

Or at least I think I smile.

“Hawke?” Fenris. Right. Fenris is here. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just tired.”

“You should take a break,” Fenris says. “Is a… Rest stop…” His voice trails off.

“I think one’s coming up,” Sebastian says. I feel bad for him – he’s in the back, in between the two sleeping passengers…

He seems content, though. Even though Carver’s leaning on his shoulder and likely drooling.

“Do you want to pull over, Hawke?” Aveline asks. “I can take over for you. I’ve driven trucks before.”

“Nah,” I say. “I’m fine. I’ll just, uh… I just need a breather. I can get there.”

When did my head start hurting this badly? Jeez.

“We could all do with some fresh air,” Merrill says.

“I doubt the air’ll be _fresh_ ,” Anders says. “The rest stops along these highways are always so _seedy_.”

“The one we stopped by yesterday was okay,” Bethany says. “I think someone tried to steal my lip gloss, though.”

“I’ll break the hands of _anyone_ who tries to steal _anything_ from you, Sunshine,” Isabela coos.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the person who tried to steal Bethany’s lip gloss was, in fact, Isabela, but I let it slide.

“Thanks!” Bethany sounds genuinely grateful.

The rest stop is, conveniently, only ten minutes away. I’ll give Wicked Grace some credit – as rambunctious as they are, they know how to quiet down when I _really_ need them to. 

We left Merrill’s house early, so it’s midday, now.

We find a parking spot close to the service area. I open the car door next to me and, holy fuck, it’s way too hot.

 Meanwhile, Fenris is helping Merrill fold up her seat… Or trying to, at least. I head over there and do it for them.

“Thank you, Fenris and Garrett!” Merrill smiles up at me, mischievous – as if she just did something _Operation-_ related. Or maybe she’s just excited about saying our names together like that.

“No problem.” Fenris is oblivious to it. He moves out of the way, and I do, too.

Everyone piles out of the truck…

Except for Sebastian.

“Ah… Um. What should I do about these two?” He sounds a little nervous. Carver and Varric are still knocked out; the former still leaning against Sebastian’s shoulder.

“It might be bad if we left them here,” Merrill says. “It’s awfully hot. They might get very burnt, unless they put on sunscreen… I should’ve put on sunscreen. I burn so easily. Oh! Garrett, do you have any sunscreen?”

I can’t keep up with her. My headache’s getting worse by the second. “Nope. No sunscreen.”

“Darn.” She pouts.

 I look down at the ground; the asphalt is _radiating_ heat.

And… I’m starting to feel nauseated.

 _Ugh_.

“Let’s get you inside,” Fenris touches my arm, very lightly. It makes me feel even dizzier; I’m trying not to let it show. He turns to the others. “Just … Wake them up, I suppose. I’ll take Hawke inside.”

Fenris steadily leads me to the rest stop, holding onto my arm as if he’s worried I’ll topple over. I don’t blame him; I’m at risk of toppling over even when I’m healthy.

“No idea why I’m feeling like this,” I say. “We’re not even at the hotel – I can’t believe –”

“It’s not your fault,” Fenris says. “You’re just tired. Making you do so much driving… It was unreasonable.”

“But I volunteered to do the driving!” I’m _determined_ to take the blame for this.

“You’re such a martyr, Hawke,” Fenris says. He’s definitely teasing me.

“Well, when you put it that way…” I know that I’m blushing, for some reason that I can’t even identify. _Blame the redness on the heat, Garrett_.

We finally enter the service area, and I know that people are staring at us.

Fenris leads me to the food court – it’s surprisingly empty, given the time of day – and guides me to a seat.

I manage to look up, and…

He’s… Close.

He’s _very_ close to me.

His expression is _almost_ unreadable, but…  He’s concerned. I can see it in his eyes.

“I-I’ll be okay!” His worry seems so obvious, now, but something about it still gets me flustered. “Really. Like I said – just tired!”

“Do you want something to eat? I can buy something for you,” Fenris says.

Shit. I’m starving, truth be told, but I don’t want him spending his money on me…

“It’s okay!” I say.

Fenris sighs, and I realize that I’m probably annoying him.

“Okay, okay!” I stick my hand in my pocket and pull out a really worn-down wallet… I’ve never been self-conscious about it before, but… Right now? I totally am. “Here.”

“Hawke.” Fenris rolls his eyes. “It’s on me.”

“No way!” I yell and a spike of pain surges through my head, causing me to wince.

“Sorry. This is non-negotiable,” Fenris says. He straightens his back and surveys the food court. It’s not as crowded as the one we were in yesterday, but it’s also significantly smaller. “Do you want a burger?”

Something about him saying the word _burger_ is so cute to me that I almost start laughing… But that would be weird, so I just say “sure” in a suspiciously squeaky voice.

“Should I get two or three?” He tucks a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, scanning the food court.

“One’s fine!” I say, stuffing my wallet back in my pocket.

He glares at me. “I’ve spent three days in close proximity to you, Hawke. I know how your appetite works.”

Okay, I can’t hold the laughter back. Not after that one.

“Two would more be than enough. I’m not Carver,” I wheeze.

He smirks and says nothing as he walks off, towards one of the food booths.

I still feel pretty dizzy, but being off the road is helping. I can’t look away from Fenris’ back. He’s wearing a plain white shirt today, along with black pants.

They’re pretty, uh... Form-fitting…  If you know what I mean.

 _No_! Garrett!

Stop!

Don’t.

I just… Can’t believe it.  He looks so good.

Then again, Fenris could make anything look good, probably.

“And there he is!” Suddenly, Anders plops down in the seat right across from me, effectively blocking Fenris from my line of sight. I jump a little; I forgot that the rest of the gang was coming in, too.

“Hey! What’s with that look?!” He starts laughing. “Sorry to interrupt your gay thoughts.”

 “Blondie, you’re getting in the way of Hawke’s eye candy,” Varric says. He sits next to Anders. “So disrespectful.”

“He’s not my eye candy,” I say. “I’m also on the brink of death, here, so have mercy.”

“Drama queen,” Anders says.

“You’re not one to talk,” I retort. It’s definitely time to change the subject. “It’s good to see you _conscious_ , Varric.”

“Thanks, Hawke. It feels good to _be_ conscious.” He winks. “Guess having that bottle of wine with breakfast was a bad idea. Who knew?”

Anders laughs and I just shake my head.

I glance around the rest stop – the rest of Wicked Grace (and Bethany and Carver, of course) are scattered all over the place. It has that distinctly sketchy vibe that’s essentially characteristic of these service areas.

Merrill’s with Sebastian and Carver. They’re looking at a display of plushy whale toys that come in all sorts of colors. Merrill’s pointing to a particularly large, orange one with gigantic eyes and is chattering excitedly. Sebastian looks amused, and Carver looks half-asleep, but happy.

I haven’t seen Carver _happy_ since there was that huge beef jerky sale down at Paragon a few months ago.

The lack of beef jerky in the presence of this _happiness_ is weirding me out.

Anyway, Bethany, Isabela and Aveline are inspecting one of those booths that sell mass-produced, tacky shirts. Isabela holds one up against her chest. It has hyper-realistic art of boobs, covered by a skimpy bikini top, on it.

Bethany screams with laughter – I can hear her from the food court. Meanwhile, Aveline’s face twists into a grimace.

“…And there’s a rave, but I’d rather pull my own teeth out than go to that,” Anders says. “One-by-one, with no anesthetic.”

I zoned out when I was looking at everyone else – he and Varric are having their own conversation.

“Harsh, Blondie.” Varric chuckles. “Don’t you want to dance with some cat-girl?”

“I’ll pass, but thanks,” Anders says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to get some food. I’m starving.”

“You do that,” Varric says. Anders rolls his eyes again and leaves, heading to the same booth that Fenris went to.

 Now that Anders is gone, I can seeFenris again. He’s at the front of the line.

“So, Riviani told me that Fenris was fussing over you,” Varric says. “How absolutely _domestic_. Kind of wish I was around to see that.”

“He was just concerned,” I say. “I’m the driver, after all.”

“Eh. I’m not buying it,” Varric says.

“Not buying what?!”

“Listen, Hawke.” Varric clears his throat. He looks me right in the eyes. “When the Champion wavers, the broody, Elven warrior is right by his side. Never faltering.”

“Always close at hand.” Isabela is suddenly leaning on top of me.

“Hey!” I squeak. They’re using their dramatic _friendfiction_ voices.

“Always within reach,” she purrs.

“Stop that!” I push her off. “Go buy food or something!”

“Big Girl and Sunshine are handling that,” Isabela says. She throws her arm around my shoulders and sits right next to me. “How are you, Kitten?”

“I’m not in the mood for friendfiction, that’s for sure,” I say.

“Oh, but it was so inspiring.” Isabela bats her eyelashes. “Fenris, gently touching the Champion’s arm. Leading the wounded hero to safety, no matter the cost.”

“What _cost_?!”

“Oh, you know the answer. It’s deep inside you.” Varric says it as if he’s stating the obvious.

“You’re not making any sense,” I grumble.

“Nope. I totally am,” Varric says. He’s just fucking around with me. I can tell.

“Oh, Kitten.” Isabela leans on my shoulder. “You’ll understand when you’re all grown up.”

“I’m 27!” I wail.

“So, you must be feeling better.” Fenris is back. He’s holding a tray… It has three burgers, a soda and two bottles of water on it.

“No! I feel worse! These jerks are on my case!”

“…Hawke wailed, exasperatedly,” Varric says.

“You know I hate when you do that.”

“…The Champion muttered in an angry aside to the dwarf,” Varric says.

Fenris just smirks more.

“Garrett!” Merrill runs over. “Here. I bought you these!” She holds out her hand and drops a tiny packet of painkillers on the food tray.

Why does everyone keep _buying_ me things?! “Thanks, Merrill! …But I could’ve paid for it.”

“It’s okay!” She stands proud. “Besides, I was yelling a lot in the car. I feel bad. Must’ve made your head hurt even more.”

“Believe me, you weren’t a major culprit,” I say, glaring at Isabela.

She holds her hands up defensively and winks.

“There’s water, which you should drink for your headache… But I bought you a Diet Coke, too, ” Fenris says. “Since I know you like those.”

“H-How?!” I never told him that I do…

“You drink it during video calls very often. And, also, you had several cups at the rest stop yesterday,” Fenris says.

“ _Damn_ , Fenris,” Varric says. “Perceptive. You sure you’re not hiding anything from us?”

Fenris shrugs. He turns around, as if to survey the food court.

But I still see it.

That light blush on his cheeks. 

I see it – for less than a second.

But… It was there.

I know it was.

I grab the water bottle, practically tear off the cap, and start gulping it down.  Because I can’t do words.

Varric and Isabela share a meaningful glance. They’re top-tier wingmen, it’s true.

Anyway, Fenris clears his throat and sits down – in the seat that Anders was in. I’m almost certain that Anders will protest once he gets back, but that’s his punishment for “blocking the eye candy” earlier, I guess.

Everyone starts talking about what they want to eat.

I’m _still_ chugging the water, because words are _still_ something I can’t do. Once I stop, I steal a quick look at Fenris, wondering if he’s still flushed.

I thought he was in the conversation with the others, but...

He’s staring towards the rest stop’s entrance with wide eyes.

“What’s up?” I ask him quietly, so that I don’t attract the attention of the others. 

“I thought I saw…” Fenris shakes his head, and turns back towards me. “No. It’s nothing. It was no one. Forget it.”

Fenris tunes back into the group’s conversation - Merrill is proclaiming something about whale songs.

He told me to forget it, but he still looks kind of troubled. I look over to the rest stop’s entrance – whoever was there is gone now.

I wonder who he thought he saw… I remember that he said his ex has a history of stalking him.

He would’ve had more of a reaction if he saw that creep, though. I’m certain of that.

So…

Who was that?  
  


~  
  


After we ate, there was a general protest against me driving the rest of the way.

I tried to put up a fight, but it was for naught. Everyone was against me...

Carver volunteered to cover the remaining distance, to make up for the fact that he’s done nothing but eat and sleep for the past two days. Plus, he knows how to drive Dad’s truck.

Anyway, we refilled the gas and head back out onto the road. The remaining four hours went by without any major incidents. Anders knocked out the second we started driving again. Isabela wanted to stick chocolate nuts in his nose, but Aveline and I protected what’s left of Anders’ honor.

So, instead of wreaking havoc, Isabela just talked to Bethany. I’m not sure about what… But I don’t think it was anything too weird. Bethany doesn’t deal with weird stuff that well – like me, she’s very expressive. Aveline started reading a book she bought at the rest stop. Varric and Sebastian started shit-talking some other guild on the MMO named Stone Sense; I don’t know them because, apparently, I am a casual.

At one point, Merrill and Carver got into a heated discussion about blackberries – one which I didn’t pay attention to at _all_.

Mostly because I was staring at Fenris.

He was quiet the entire time. He just stared out the window, with his headphones in. I felt like a creep, just staring at him, but… I don’t know. Something about his face is just so relaxing to me.

It makes no sense. Sometimes, I get so flustered when I talk to him (though I _do_ think I’m getting better at controlling that). That being said, at the same time…

His _existence_ is just so _right_ to me. It’s comforting. It’s natural.

I closed my eyes and thought about how I want to know more about him. All of the shit he doesn’t want to talk about, for whatever reason…

As I felt sleep creeping up on me, I thought about how _badly_ I want to know all of it.

Because… No matter what he tells me, Fenris is _Fenris_.

And that’s more than enough.

~  
  


“Wake up!”

I feel something whack my forehead.

I jolt up. “Miles?!”

“Does Miles usually talk to you, Kitten?” Oh. “If so… That’s…”

“…Worrying,” another voice says.

I open my eyes.

Isabela’s staring at me. She’s practically on my lap.

“Isabela?!”

“Good morning!” She chirps.

It’s… Orange outside.

“Morning?” I ask. I rub at my eyes – I’m still disoriented… “What time…”

“It’s five,” Fenris – the other voice, as it turns out – says. “In the evening.”

Isabela gets off me and leaps out of the truck. I clamber out, too… I’m the last one to get out of it, apparently. Everyone else is outside already.

“Hey, Garrett,” Varric says. “Welcome to The Amerid Inn.”

Oh, right. The hotel.

The Amerid Inn.

We got rooms here at a discount. None of us have stayed here before (not even Zevran or Cousland, who also have a room reserved for the weekend), though Varric apparently knows the people who run it.

It’s a lot cooler outside than it was a few hours ago, but it’s still pretty warm. The front of the hotel has a bunch of weird statues. Their faces are stylized, but they seem to be screaming out in pain. There’s also a lot of greenery, though I have no idea what plants they’re supposed to be. Some are wilting.

 “Garrett!” Merrill bounces over to me. “Did you enjoy your little kip?”

I have no idea what a kip is, but I nod anyway.

“You still look a bit pale,” she says.

“I’m fine,” I say. “But, uh. What are those?” I point at one of the huge statues.

“Lovely décor, isn’t it?” Anders says.

“I think they’re rather cute,” Merrill says. “They remind me of those statues in Kirkwall.”

“Oh! Hey! You’re right!” I exclaim. They’re so foreboding. “I feel at home already.”

“Yes, yes,” Aveline pats me on the shoulder. “Help me get the bags. Everyone else can sort out the checking in process.”

“You got it, Vallen,” Varric says. “Let’s go. I have the reservation info.”

“I’ll help with the bags, too,” Carver says.

“What?!” I gasp. “Carver? _Helping_? What’s gotten into you?”

“Yeah, Carver,” Bethany – still glued to Isabela’s side – says. “Who’re you trying to impress?”

“Shut it,” Carver snaps.

“I’ll get a baggage cart,” Fenris says.

“Good thinking.” Okay, why the _hell_ is Carver in such a good mood?! He’s being downright pleasant. “I’ll go with you.”

“Onward!” Isabela yells. She grabs Bethany’s hand and they take off running into the hotel’s lobby.

Everyone else follows them. Aveline and I stand by the truck.

“Shit. We need to park this, too,” I say. I rest my hand on the worn-down _Hawke’s Carpentry_ logo and give it a little pat – subtly thanking it for taking us across the damn country.

“Carver can do it,” Aveline replies. “Let’s just deal with all of the bags for now.”

I open up the truck… And we kind of just stare at all of the suitcases.

“It’s like Tetris,” I say.

Aveline just groans.

We start unloading the truck and I almost get knocked out by a suitcase with a cheetah-print pattern.

Of _course_ Isabela’s suitcase would be the one to potentially kill me.

As we’re doing that, I remember something.

 _Donnic_.

“Aveline?” I have to bring it up. No one’s here – it’s the perfect time!

“Yes, Hawke?” Aveline grunts under the weight of a large black suitcase – I’m assuming it belongs to Anders, since it has literally _nothing_ related to his identity on it.

I help her move it onto the ground. “Any news from Donnic?”

She frowns. “I told him about the convention, like you said. But he has a demanding shift this weekend, so he couldn’t make it.”

“Ah.” Damn. I wanted to meet him, and potentially do some wingmaning of my own.

“It’s alright. I feel like it’s better off this way, you know?” Aveline rests Bethany’s bright pink suitcase on the ground. “I think I need some time off that drama.”

She still seems a little sad, though. I’ve known Aveline long enough – I can tell when she’s putting on a brave face.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m sure you’ll snag him soon.”

Aveline snorts. “He’s not something to collect, Hawke.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Hmm. Maybe.” She smiles.

“I’ll help you out with it,” I say. “You’ll see.”

She grins, just as Carver and Fenris exit the hotel. They’re pulling a baggage cart along, too.

“I’m sure you will, Hawke,” she says.  


~

  
“We got the rooms!” Isabela runs over to us as we wheel the baggage cart into the hotel’s lobby. The suitcases are practically spilling out of it.

The lobby is nice enough. It has a yellow-and-red sort of color-scheme going on, with more weird, abstract art all over the walls. The whole lobby is tiled – I think the tiles were once white, but now they’re kind of a creamish colour.

Generally, The Amerid Inn gives off a rustic feel. I can’t speak for the rooms just yet, but it seems rundown in the cozy way.

In the Kirkwall way.

(Though Anders would probably disagree with the “cozy” thing, but, you know.)

I wonder if a random person will tell me to go die, just like that one NPC in Kirkwall’s Darktown.

The receptionist – a short person, holding onto what looks like a small cup of coleslaw – waves at us from behind the counter.

“We have three rooms,” Varric says. “Each has two beds. Queen-sized, mind you.”

“How should we split up?” Merrill asks. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Me too!” Carver practically yells. “I’m, uh, fine anywhere, too!”

“Should we go by gender?” Anders asks.

“No, no. We’re not _children_ , Anders! Please.” Isabela puts her hands on her hips.

“It was just a suggestion!” Anders says, putting his hands up defensively. “Believe me, I’m well aware that gender’s a social construct. _Very_ well aware.”

“How about by our MMO classes, then?” Sebastian suggests. “Mages can be in one, rogues in the other, and warriors in the final one.”

“Ooh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Merrill clasps her hands together. “That means Anders and Bethany are my roommates!”

She throws her arms around Bethany. Bethany laughs and pats her on the back.

“I might just wander between all of them,” Anders says.

“…Please just stay in your room at night, Anders,” Fenris says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Aw, you were both doing so well,” Merrill says. “You didn’t fight at all on the trip over here.”

“No, they fought when Fenris stole Anders’ seat in the food court,” I say. “You were busy buying that gardening magazine, Merrill.”

“Oh.” Merrill stares at Fenris, then at Anders. “Well then, carry on!”

“You know what,” Carver interrupts any potential ensuing arguments. “I think Alistair’s in this hotel, too. I’ll just stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” Bethany asks.

“I’m sure,” he says. “I’ll call him.” He pulls his suitcase down from the baggage cart – it’s conveniently right on top of the others. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts calling Alistair.

That means…

Aveline, Fenris and I are sharing a room.

Wait… Did I somehow just get wingmaned?!

Was I just casually pushed into a room with Fenris?!

I mean, Aveline’s there, but she’s in on this, and…

Holy shit.

I make eye contact with Sebastian.

He smiles serenely.

_I totally just got wingmaned by the fucking priest. Again!_

“Okay, sounds good.” Aveline brushes a stray lock of her hair back. “Does everyone have tickets for the actual convention?”

Sebastian nods.

“We ordered ours online,” I say, gesturing towards Bethany and Carver.

“Same here,” Fenris mutters.

“Naturally,” Varric says.

“I got mine the day they were available!” Merrill exclaims.

“Me too,” Aveline says. “…What about you, Anders?”

“Nah. I’ll just sneak in,” Anders says.

“He has the right idea,” Isabela agrees.

“Fuck both of you,” Aveline says. “I mean it.”

“Ooh! Vallen said a bad word!” Isabela sings.

“Stop.” Aveline flicks her gently on the shoulder. “We’re going to the convention center right now.”

“What? No!” Anders pouts.

“Yes, we have to. Online ticket sales are over, and they’ll be too expensive once the convention gets started,” Aveline says. “The center’s only five minutes away.”

“But tickets cost money!” Isabela wails.

“It’s your fault for being so lazy,” Aveline says. “And morally corrupt. Come on, I’ll take the truck…”

Isabela and Anders continue to complain. Carver hands the truck keys over to Aveline while he’s talking to Alistair. From what I can tell by Carver’s affirmative grunting (he’s notoriously bad at phone calls), Alistair’s in the hotel, too. So I guess that worked out.

My phone vibrates.

It alarms me, because, well, everyone who usually texts me is… Here. In person.

Something about that makes my chest feel really warm.

I pull it out and check my messages.

  
  
**Zevran** (5:16pm):  
Dearest dearest Garrett:  
You are in the area by now, surely??? Come play w/ me and Couscous ;)♥♥  
BRING ISABELA.  
  
**Garrett** (5:16pm):  
Dearest, Dearest Zevran:  
We just got here yeah. I think Isabela is in trouble w the law. So she might get held up a bit.  
Where are u?

  
**Zevran** (5:17pm):  
Classic Isabela. :) :)  
I am with Cousland  & our beloved ladyfriend Amell @ a bar near the hotel.  
It is called The Hanged Man  
Varric knows it  


  
I look up from my phone. “Varric, do you know a bar in the area? The Hanged Man, or whatever?”

“Know it?” Varric laughs. “Hawke, I practically _lived_ there for half of my life.”

That’s incredibly sketchy, yet somehow unsurprising.

“You’re going to a _bar_?! Without _me_?!” Isabela’s mortified.

“Oh, stop whining,” Aveline says. “We’ll go over there afterwards.”  


  
  
**Garrett** (5:17pm):  
Sounds good  
Ok we’ll be there soon. Theres a bunch of us  
Gotta offload luggage etc  


**Zevran** (5:18pm):  
:) :) :) :)  
See u all soon♥

   
  


“Okay, let’s offload all these bags and head over, then,” I say. “I can put yours away for you, Aveline.”

“You’re sure?” Aveline asks.

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” I say.

“You guys just go sort yourselves out,” Varric says with a chuckle. “Call me when you’re back. I’ll give you directions to the bar… Walk over, though. I don’t want anyone sober tonight.”

“I hope we don’t run into any of my old guildmates while we’re here,” Anders says, as he and Isabela practically get dragged out of the hotel by Aveline.

“Don’t worry,” Isabela says. “I’m definitely on _way_ more people’s shitlists than you ever will be, Blondie.”

“You’d be surprised,” he replies, grimly.

They keep talking as they leave, but they’re too far away for me to hear their conversation.

“Now that they’re being taken care of…” Varric grins. “Who’s up for some pre-gaming?”

“Holy shit, I haven’t heard that phrase since I was in college,” I say.

Varric shrugs. “I like to spice things up, sometimes.”

“You drank a bottle of wine with breakfast,” Fenris points out. “Your entire existence is pre-gaming.”

“I like games!” Merrill exclaims, because… Of course she does.

“Okay, okay!” Varric laughs. “I get it. But, really. I need some alcohol in my system, and I need it as soon as possible.”

“Let’s just drop the bags off,” Sebastian says. “Then we can get to the bar and Varric can… Satisfy his urges.”

“Hear, hear,” Fenris says, flatly. I crack up, and he smirks.

“Does this mean we’re not playing any games?” Merrill asks.

“Oh, Merrill…” Sebastian chuckles.

Fenris and I steady the baggage cart, and we make our way over to the elevator.

Carver follows us – he’s still on the phone with Alistair, though, so I’m not sure what his plans will be.

But, you know...

One thing’s for certain.

It’s going to be one hell of a night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to mary aka snoot for being the best beta anyone could ever ask for (no one is surprised. not one person)... even if she kept sending me minion memes at like 2 in the morning while i was trying to write. ♥
> 
> additionally, the song that merrill played in the truck is called hoppípolla, by sigur rós!


	20. Chapter 20

The Hanged Man is… _Quaint_.

Quaint in a gross way.

Fake plastic candles are _everywhere_. I’m not kidding. Half of them aren’t even working.

The walls are wooden. So is the floor. It’s all really, really old wood.

A part of me wants to start fixing everything that I can get my clammy hands on.

As we walk in, a chorus of people yell Varric’s name.

He yells something back at them in a very jovial manner, but I’m too busy eyeing a stain on the floor, right in the middle of the room.

It looks suspiciously like a blood stain.

…Like I said: The Hanged Man is quaint.

Zevran’s sitting on a stool, right in front of the bar. He has a bright pink margarita in one hand and a beer bottle in another.

I call out his name and he practically twirls around.

“Gare!” He’s grinning. “You have finally decided to grace me with your presence!”

“Yeah. Hey,” I say.

Zevran’s eyeing all of my friends.

Aveline took Isabela and Anders to the convention center to buy tickets, so Wicked Grace is missing a pretty significant chunk of its members (the woes of being a small guild).

Carver apparently went to some sort of meat shop with Alistair. I didn’t question it.

So… Right now, “the gang” consists of Bethany, Varric, Merrill, Sebastian, Fenris, and, of course, me. 

Anyway, Zevran scans everyone pretty quickly.

Until he sees for Fenris. Then he kind of just… Raises his eyebrows.

I stomp over to him (making sure to step over the mysterious stain), before Fenris sees that _face_ he’s making. “How long have you been here? Why are you drinking _two things_ at once?!”

Mixing drinks is bad. I did it once, and… I don’t want to tell that particular story. Mostly because I can’t remember what happened.

Zevran laughs. “I am just having a good time! You know of my god-like tolerance, I am sure of this.” His eyes dart back to Fenris. “More importantly, why are you abandoning your _friends_ , Gare?”

“You’re so transparent.” I glance back to the doorway. Everyone’s still clustered there, except for Varric, who’s already fluttered off and is socializing with a particularly drunk couple.

Fenris’ face is twisted into a grimace. I turn away so I don’t burst out laughing at how damn _cute_ that is.

Zevran has a certain glint in his eyes – the same glint that Isabela’s had since this _Operation_ started – and I’m eternally grateful that she’s not here right now.

“Introductions are in order.” Zevran bats his eyelashes. “You know that.”

“Fine, fine,” I grumble. I turn around to get everyone’s attention. Instead, I almost crash right into Merrill.

How?! She was just by the door!

“Hi!” She’s all smiles and isn’t even looking at me. “Are you Zevran?”

“Yes! The one and only.” Zevran’s also all smiles. “And you are… Tiny and adorable. You must be Merrill.”

“You’re right! I’m Merrill!” Merrill’s so polite. “Your shirt is lovely.” Said shirt is black and has a grotesque crow design on it.

They start enthusing over some alternative clothing company together. Apparently, Merrill’s sparkly yellow dress – adorned with stylized, cartoonish seagulls – was designed by them, too.

Sebastian walks over.

He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt and black pants… A getup that makes him look out of place. Generally, though, he doesn’t seem that bothered by the Hanged Man.

He’s significantly less bothered than _I_ am, at least.

Bethany and Fenris trail after him. Fenris is eyeing the stain in the middle of the room.

(It’s totally a blood stain.)

“This is Sebastian,” I say, gesturing at Sebastian. “Sebastian, this is Zevran. Uh, Zev, you know Bethany.”

“Nah, I don’t know who this person is,” Bethany says, smirking as she gives Zevran a hug.

“Garrett, how could you hide such a _beauty_ from me?” Zevran asks, leaning into Bethany’s hug as he winks at Sebastian.

Leave it to Zevran to flatter two people at once.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Sebastian says. “We’ve heard many stories about you, Zevran.”

Zevran takes a sip of his margarita. “I can only imagine.”

“Some are rather colorful,” Sebastian admits.

“Did Gare tell you the one involving the greased –”

_Nope!_

I start babbling incoherently in an attempt to drown him out. “No one wants to hear that one, Zevran!”

Zevran starts laughing hysterically. “And you!” He whips his head in Fenris’ direction. “You _must_ be Fenris. The tattoos give you away.”

“They have a tendency to,” Fenris says, with a wry little smile.

“Yeah!” My voice is all squeaky. “That’s him! That’s Fenris!” Don’t ruin this, Zevran! Do not! “Those are his… Tattoos. Fenris, this is Zevran. The guy at work who frequently torments me.”

“I do it because I simply _adore_ you, Gare.” Zevran puts his beer bottle down on the counter. “Fenris. I was thinking about getting some white ink done, myself. Cousland knows a rather, ah, _reputable_ tattoo parlor.”

“Cousland is Zevran’s _husband_.” I know that Zevran freaks out whenever I introduce Cousland that way to anyone.

“You are playing with fire, Garrett Malcolm Hawke.” Darn, a surprisingly tame reaction.

“Isabela mentioned Cousland!” Merrill says.

Zevran pouts. “She would never call him my _husband_.”

“She said that you were getting very domestic,” Merrill says.

“Is that so?” Zevran rolls his eyes. “I must exchange some _strong words_ with that woman.”

“Where’s Cousland?” I sit on a stool next to Zevran. “You said he was with you.”

“He went with Amell to pick up Nathaniel,” Zevran says. “They left me here. All by my lonesome!” He dramatically leans against me and sighs.

“Nathaniel’s here?!” Bethany’s genuinely surprised. “You got him to come?”

“He plays your little game,” Zevran says. “Dragon Era.”

“Of course. _Dragon Era_.” Varric saunters over to us. “My favorite overrated MMO.”

“Please don’t call it _Dragon Era_ when Anders is around,” Fenris says.

“He might cry,” Merrill adds.

“Anders?” Zevran blinks and then squirms around so that he can stare up at me. “You are friends with an ‘Anders’?”

“We’ve had this conversation, Zevran,” I say, pushing him off me. I don’t know why he keeps _forgetting_ about Anders… He remembers everyone else.

He never even _saw_ Merrill before today, and yet…

“Anyway, it’s good to see you, Zev,” Varric says. “You’re as sexy as ever.”

Varric and Zevran know each other. I’m not sure how, but… They do.

“Flatterer,” Zevran coos.

Varric winks and heads over to the bartender. “It’s all on me, guys.”

Merrill cheers and grabs onto Bethany’s arm. “Bethany! There’s a dart board over there! Let’s play!”

“You want to throw darts while you drink free alcohol?” Bethany asks. “Wow, what could possibly go wrong?”

Merrill just drags her off while Sebastian laughs. “I should keep an eye on them,” Sebastian says.

“Do you drink, Choir Boy?” Varric asks.

“I do,” Sebastian says. That’s actually surprising. Sebastian keeps _surprising_ me tonight.

“Good,” Varric replies. “Tonight, sobriety is our collective enemy. Corff!”

The bartender – Corff, I guess – looks up from the bowl of peanuts that he’s currently snacking on.

“Fix up a round of drinks for everyone in this damn establishment. Put it on my tab.”

“You got it, Tethras,” Corff says. “Anything specific?”

“Whatever’s the most potent,” Varric says. “I trust your judgement.”

 _Of course_.

I have a tendency to get horrifyingly emotional whenever I’m “under the influence.” I’ll have to be careful. Especially since Fenris is around.

“You are a god among men, Varric,” Zevran says.

“I try,” Varric replies.

Zevran grins, then knocks back the rest of his margarita. “Now, onto matters of business. Fenris. I have _so_ many questions.”

“Do you, now?” Fenris takes a seat on the stool next to me. “Should I be concerned?”

“Perhaps,” Zevran says.

I’m bracing myself for the inevitable “are you a serial killer?” joke.

I know that it’s coming because Zevran loves to torture me.

…Also because of my husband-Cousland joke.

That’s not important.

What’s important is that I’m ready to derail any and all inappropriate questions.

I’m fully prepared to launch into a ramble about a mundane yet somehow applicable topic… Like how bad the wood is in here.

Everyone loves wood.

Zevran knows about wood. He works at the Carpentry, after all.

Except he’s a locksmith, so he might not know that much about wood.

Still… I don’t think you need to be a wood expert to know that the Hanged Man is essentially made out of shit.

“Cousland! Amell!” Zevran’s yelling. I snap out of my inner monologue about wood. Fenris is staring at me, all _bemused_.

Did he know I was thinking about wood?!

I turn towards the doorway before he can see just how flustered I am, and… Cousland’s here. A tiny blonde woman is standing next to him, along with a black-haired guy who seems a little grumpy.

“Hi!” The blonde woman waves at Zevran. “Look who we found!” She points at Nathaniel excitedly.

“It’s Nathaniel,” Cousland says, monotonously.

“Thanks for that, guys,” Nathaniel says.

Zevran scrambles out of his seat so that he can take a running leap onto Cousland. Cousland doesn’t budge, of course. At this point, it’s safe to assume that Zevran _always_ greets Cousland like that.

The blonde woman – I’m assuming she’s Amell – is staring at me.

Her gaze makes me realize just how _sweaty_ I’ve been for the past ten minutes. Maybe some alcohol consumption isn’t such a bad idea.

Fenris nudges me. “Do you know her?”

“Who?”

“That woman, you doof,” Fenris says.

“ _Doof_?” I echo.

“Yes.” Fenris turns away as Varric asks him a question that I don’t quite catch.

Mostly because I can’t believe Fenris just called me a _doof_.

What is a doof? Am I really a doof?

Amell is still staring at me.

Why is this happening?!

“Oh my god, is that… Sebastian Vael?” Nathaniel’s jaw drops.

Sebastian’s standing by the dartboard, holding a handful of darts in the palm of his hand. He’s oblivious to the fact that we’re all staring at him right now.

(Bethany is in a power stance next to him; apparently she takes dart-throwing _very_ seriously. Merrill’s also engrossed in their game.)

“Yes, that’s him,” Fenris says. “Are you a fan?”

Nathaniel just gapes, as if he can’t believe that he’s in the presence of Sebastian.

“He’s a huge fan.” Amell saves him.

“Is Sebastian famous?” I ask Fenris, keeping my voice low so that no one else can hear us.

“I guess so,” Fenris says. “…His costume is impressive.”

Are you kidding me?

Is there anything _else_ that I need to learn about Sebastian tonight?!

“I-I need a moment.” Nathaniel says. “You! Come with me.” He puts his hand on Cousland’s shoulder and points towards the door.

“Sorry. I’ll be right back,” Cousland says. He peels Zevran off, giving him a light pat on the head when he protests, then follows Nathaniel out of the bar.

We’re making a scene. The other patrons of the Hanged Man don’t seem to care.

Maybe they’re too drunk to care.

“Nathaniel is making his man-crush far too obvious,” Zevran says.

“At least Sebastian didn’t hear him,” Amell says. “Somehow.”

“Whatever. Come with me, my little bluebird.” He loops an arm around Amell’s shoulders and leads her over to the bar. “You simply _must_ meet Garrett and his _special friend_ , Fenris.”

 _Special friend_ …

“It’s nice to meet you, Fenris!” Amell smiles as she walks over to us. “I’m Amell.”

Fenris nods. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

I’m about to say the same thing when Amell interrupts me.

“I know you.”

“You do?” Great! She knows me, and I definitely don’t know her.

Okay, actually, her name is a bit familiar. _Amell_. Still, I definitely don’t _know_ her.

She’s short – around Merrill’s height, I think. Her blonde hair is long and pulled to one side. She’s wearing a plain, light blue dress, along with matching blue flip-flops.

“I do!” Amell doesn’t seem to care that I _obviously_ don’t know her. “We’re cousins!”

…What?!

A woman whose hair is in a bun pushes between us. She drops a platter with several drinks on it onto the counter behind me. “Tethras is buying,” she says, as if we didn’t know that already.

Then she just leaves.

I guess she works here. Good service from the Hanged Man.

“We’re cousins?!” I repeat.

“Yeah! Second cousins.” Amell grins. “I know your mom! Leandra, right?”

“Yes, yes. He is Leandra’s son.” Zevran says, grabbing one of the drinks from the platter.

The drinks are neon pink, and that’s very worrying to me.

It’s not worrying to Zevran, apparently.

“Zev told me your name,” she says. “My mom’s name is Revka. She’s Leandra’s cousin. Do you know her?”

I’ve literally _never_ heard that name before in my life. “I… Think I’ve heard that name before.”

Yes, I’m a huge liar.

“See?! And there’s… Bethany, right?” Amell’s caught sight of Bethany, too. “Cousland told me the names of the twins a while ago.”

“You’re right,” I say. She knows everything about the family. Meanwhile, I know nothing.

“Nice! Wow.” She giggles. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Okay, I didn’t know she was my cousin, but, like I said: I _know_ I’ve heard her name before.

Fenris grabs one of the neon-pink drinks from the platter, too.

He’s quieter than usual. He must be thinking about something.

Zevran tells Amell to sit next to him. She complies, and the two try to work out what the _hell_ Varric bought us.

Apparently, it’s a cocktail limited to the Hanged Man. That’s not exactly a good sign.

My phone vibrates…

I pull it out of my pocket and check my texts.

 

 **Isabela** (6:07pm): **  
** GARRETT AVELINR MADE ME SPENDMONEY ON A TICKET ))))))))):

 **Garrett** (6:07pm): ****  
Wow Isabela!  
How could you spend ACTUAL MONEY on a TICKET FOR A CONVENTION

 **Isabela** (6:08pm):  
waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah :’( :’( :’( :’((((((((((  
T-T    T-T     T-T    T-T

 **Garrett** (6:08pm): ****  
Stop that  
where are you guys????

 **Isabela** (6:08pm):  
we just got back 2 the hotel  
gnna walk over soon. are u drunk yet

 **Garrett** (6:08pm):  
No. This bar is the most terrible bar ive ever been in.  
im not kidding.

 **Isabela** (6:08pm): ****  
lol uve been in like 3 different bars, tops  
im not worried ;)  
once theres booooze we cant looooze

 **Garrett** (6:09pm): ****  
Clever play on words, there!!!!!!  
Loved that use of rhyming!!! Keep it up!!!!!

 **Isabela** (6:09pm):  
;)))))))))))))))) u r a shit  
see u soon  
the party doesnt start till i walk in

 **Garrett** (6:09pm): ****  
WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CHEESY?  
STOP DROPPING ONE-LINERS

 

I don’t get an immediate reply to that, so I’m pretty sure that Isabela’s ignoring me.

“Hawke,” Fenris says, softly. He touches my arm, too.

That’s _two_ Fenris _-_ arm-touches in _one_ day.

“Yeah?” I’m getting flustered to Panic-Garrett levels.

I should really start drinking.

I grab one of those neon pink drinks from the platter.

“It’s been a while since we talked about this, so I may be mistaken,” Fenris says. “But… Your ex. Cullen.”

“Oh shit. Is _he_ here, too?!”

“No. Well, I don’t know how Cullen looks… So he might be.” Fenris frowns. “It’s unlikely, though.”

“He has blond, curly hair.” I have him as a “friend” on this one social networking website that I barely ever use. I check my account whenever I’m feeling particularly masochistic. “He’s white. And he’s around my height. And –”

“Hawke,” Fenris interrupts me. “Listen.”

“You mentioned that Cullen was chasing after some woman,” Fenris says. “That woman’s name was –”

Holy shit.

“Amell.” I can’t believe that I forgot. “It was Amell.”

Holy _shit_.

Amell’s still wrapped up in her conversation with Zevran.

“Do you think she’s the same Amell?” Fenris asks.

I’m in shock. Amell isn’t exactly a common name.

Cullen talked about Amell _so much_ when we were together. It used to piss me off. Sometimes, it felt as if I was third wheeling in my own damn relationship.

I take a few gulps of the weird pink cocktail.

No drink should be this pink. It’s somehow sweet and sour at the same time, and it burns.

It burns so much that my eyes start watering.

“Are you alright?” Fenris is worried. Again.

“Yes! I’m just shocked.” I glance at Amell. She’s… Fuzzy. Wow. This drink’s strong.

In all seriousness, Amell’s very animated. She’s still talking to Zevran - making a lot of hand gestures.

“Should I ask her?” I turn to Fenris.

“That depends,” Fenris replies, slowly. “Do you harbor any resentment towards her?”

“No way!” I say that pretty loudly. In my peripheral vision, I can see Zevran staring at me. “I mean…” I lower my voice again. “It’s just weird. Seeing the face behind the name, you know? And she’s my fucking cousin, no less.”

Fenris shrugs. “Do whatever you want.”

“What are you two _whispering_ about over there?” Of course, Zevran calls us out. “Are you exchanging sweet nothings?”

Zevran! Dammit!

“You wish,” I say. I’m already flushed from drinking the Hanged Man’s pink concoction. “Um, Amell?”

Amell looks at me, all politely inquisitive. No hetero, but she’s incredibly cute. Her lips are small and pink, and her eyes are big and brown.

She’s like a little bird, in an adorable way.

Okay, here it goes. “Do you know someone named Cullen Rutherford?”

It’s as if I just flicked a switch.

Her face – that polite little smile – instantly drops.

“How do you know Cullen?” She asks.

“I dated him in college,” I squeak. “He mentioned an Amell... A _lot_.”

Amell sighs. “Are you kidding me?!” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “That guy! What did he say about me?!”

“So it _was_ you!” Something about this situation is absolutely hilarious. Maybe it’s the alcohol’s influence. “He just said that he wanted to date you. A long time ago, I mean. And, uh… That you rejected him. The rest is just… Random trivia.”

Amell raises her eyebrows. “Trivia?”

“Yeah.” Okay, I can’t hold the laughter back. I’m giggling like a teenager. “Your favorite color’s powder blue. You like vanilla cupcakes. You –”

“Oh my gosh!” Amell’s laughing, too. “Stop! That’s so creepy! Cullen, why?!”

“Did this _Cullen_ sense that you two are related?” Zevran asks. “Did he pick up Amell’s vague _scent_ on Gare?”

“No!” I’m laughing so hard, I’m practically crying. “What the fuck?!”

“There _is_ a bit of a resemblance,” Fenris adds.

“There totally isn’t!” Amell squeaks.

The door opens; Cousland’s back, along with Nathaniel.

Nathaniel doesn’t approach the bar counter.

Instead, he slowly edges towards the dart board. Merrill, Bethany and Sebastian are still playing their game…

Merrill throws a dart and it _somehow_ zooms away from the board, hitting a wooden wall across the room.

Bethany bursts into laughter, and it makes me laugh even harder.

Cousland walks over to us. “What’s up?”

“Gare dated Cullen in college. You may remember Cullen as the sixteen-year-old who lusted after Amell when you were both in high school,” Zevran replies.

He also gives Cousland a quick kiss on the jaw.

“ _Rutherford_?” Cousland knows Cullen, too, apparently. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” Okay, get it together, Garrett. I’m trying to suppress my laughter. It’s hard to stop laughing when the world is spinning.

I drink more of the pink concoction. It’s almost all gone.

I don’t want it to be all gone!

“I punched him, once,” Cousland recalls. “Cullen.”

“I did, too!” I’m bonding with Cousland! “At a party in college. He tried to kiss me, so I punched him.”

“Nice.” Amell laughs, lightly. “And you ended up dating him?”

“Somehow,” Fenris says.

“He didn’t try to kiss me,” Cousland says. “But he tried to fight me for Amell’s honor.”

Amell groans and covers her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me!”

“It was back in high school,” Cousland continues. “I told him that I wasn’t into her. I never swung that way. He didn’t listen.”

I shake my head. “Of course.” He was a stubborn guy. He’s matured a lot, but that headstrong streak is probably still there. It’s not something that just vanishes as you get older.

“Yeah. I got suspended. It was okay.” Cousland shrugs. “Did Varric buy everyone drinks? Shit, I’m gonna kill Nathaniel.” I guess the Hanged Man didn’t include them in the drink count, since they were outside.

“Varric will handle it,” Zevran purrs. “You can share mine, for now.”

 Amell leans against the bar’s counter as Zevran hands his drink over to Cousland. “What’s Cullen up to, now?” She asks. “Do you keep in touch?”

“No, we don’t keep in touch,” I reply. “He said that he was just, uh… Experimenting with me.”

It still stings.

Not the “Cullen broke up with me” part.

The fact that I was just… An experiment.

It _still_ stings.

“Garrett was too good for him,” Fenris says, sipping his drink.

That catches me _completely_ off-guard. I snort – attractive, I know.

“Cullen will work himself out someday,” Amell says. “Wow... I never thought I’d hear about him again.”

“I can’t believe that you knew him,” I say. I finish off the rest of my drink.

Goodbye, drink.

Amell sighs. “I can’t believe that _you_ knew him! That’s seriously so weird.” She takes a sip of her drink, then grimaces. 

“If you don’t want that, I’ll take it,” Cousland says.

“I do want it!” Amell isn’t giving up that easily. She knocks back a few more glugs.

Zevran laughs. “Just do not get wasted, my dear.”

“I won’t get wasted!”

“Sure.” Is Cousland joking around?!

“Don’t take that tone with me!” Amell snaps.

Cousland makes a snorting sound. Was that a laugh?! I’ve never heard him laugh.

Zevran wasn’t kidding – Cousland and Amell _are_ close. Amell doesn’t even seem like the sort of person who’d hang around a hardcore guy like Cousland.

Cousland ends up taking Zevran’s seat, since there are no more available barstools. Zevran sits on his lap.

“Oh, Cousland. This is Fenris,” I say. “And… Fenris. This is Cousland.”

Cousland nods at Fenris. Fenris nods at Cousland.

They’re both men of few words.

Zevran looks very pleased. I’m not entirely sure why. He’s just sitting in Cousland’s lap and giving me a look that says _something_.

I’m not sober enough to work out what Zevran’s trying to say, but I’m also _too_ sober.

“I need another drink.”

I meant to _think_ that. I guess my internal voice became my external one. Great.

“You are in the right place, Gare!” Zevran sings. “Corff! My dearest Corff, please provide us with another round!”

Corff – who has resumed his peanut-snacking – squints at Zevran.

Apparently, asking a bartender to mix drinks is a lot to ask.

“Are you putting this on Tethras’ tab?” Corff asks.

“Absolutely!” Zevran beams.

Corff stares at him for a while. “Alright. Fine. What’ll you have?”

Zevran turns to me. “Well, Gare?”

“Um…” I never actually caught the name of that neon pink drink. “That… Pink thing.”

“Alright, another round of the Experimental Draught,” Corff says.

What?!

“Cocktail names are always so fun,” Amell muses.

The bar door opens up again.

Isabela’s here. She changed into a very short white dress… Her bandana is still on.

Aveline and Anders are right behind her.

“Zevran!” Isabela screams.

“Isabela!” Zevran leaps out of Cousland’s lap.

They charge at each other and collide right over the bar’s mysterious floor-stain, screaming various compliments the entire time.

“You’re fucking _scrumptious_!”

“When did you buy this dress?! It is magnificent!”

“Your ass is _glorious_ in those _pants_!”

“Your boobs are, frankly, fantastic.” Zevran wipes a tear from his eye. “I missed them!”

I’d say that I can’t believe them, except… I totally can.

“How heart-warming,” Fenris says.

Corff hands the drinks over to us.

I immediately start glugging down my Experimental Draught… I’ll never get over that name.

“Is that him?!” Isabela screams. “Cousland?!”

“That’s me,” Cousland says. He gets up and walks over to them, but not before he picks up his own drink. Isabela won’t stop squealing. She pulls Cousland into a hug.

“Holy hell, you’re so _muscular_! How many tattoos do you have?! Oh my god! I _adore_ the piercings! I want a septum ring, too.”

She bombards him with more compliments.

I shake my head. The world is even fuzzier, but Fenris is clear.

He’s next to me and he smells good.

His glass is mostly full, though.

“You need to drink more!” I tell him.

“I’m pacing myself,” Fenris replies.

 _Pacing_ …

“It burns less if you just drink it down in one go.” That’s my advice.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Garrett, that isn’t how you… Oh, never mind.”

He reaches out and pats my shoulder.

Amell giggles.

Does she know about the Operation?

Do _strangers_ know about the Operation?!

That’s worrying.

I drink some more.

That makes it less worrying, somehow.

Also, Amell is very pretty.

She looks back towards Cousland, and…

Her smile drops. Again. Just like how it did when I brought up Cullen.

Is Cullen here?!

“Anders?!” What? Amell knows Anders?

“Amell?!” Anders knows Amell?!

“Hawke, stop swinging your head back and forth like that,” Fenris says. “You’ll get sick.”

“Is Cullen here?!” I ask him.

Fenris stares back at me.

I turn to Amell. “How do you know Anders?!”

“He was part of our guild!” Amell hollers. She stands up. “Cousland, that’s Anders!”

“Who’s Anders?” Cousland asks.

Oh my god, he’s just like Zevran. Why don’t they ever remember Anders?!

I can’t stop laughing. I’m wheezing.

I almost spill my drink everywhere. Fenris grabs it just in time.

This is why I like Fenris.

“ _He was part of our guild_!” Amell hollers. “You know, Mage Rights Activist! He ditched us right before the major patch!”

“Oh, shit! You were… Grand Enchanter!” Anders gawks. “And -- No way! Cousland?!”

“Yeah. We established that. Hey,” Cousland says.

“No, Cousland!” Amell storms over to them. “I can’t believe this! Why are you here?!”

‘Grand Enchanter’ must be Amell’s username.

Then… Cousland’s is… ‘ _Cousland_ ’? That’s... so typical.

“I’m with my new guild!” Anders puts his hands in front of him, all defensively. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I’m with _my_ guild!”

“Mage Rights Activist?!” Nathaniel caught sight of Anders, too, apparently. He’s by Sebastian’s side -- he hurries over to Amell, worried and vaguely scornful.

“No bar fights,” Corff drawls from over his bowl of peanuts.

“I want peanuts,” I say, to no one in particular.

Amell is so betrayed. “You’re with Wicked Grace now? I can’t believe this!”

“Sorry, I didn’t like being so close to the _corporate greed_ ,” Anders says.

“Are you telling me that there’s yet _another_ guild who hates us?” Aveline walks past Anders, heading over to where I’m sitting. “Wonderful.”

“I’m proud of you, Anders,” Isabela says. She finally lets go of Cousland.

“Shut up!” Anders blushes.

“Corporate greed, my butt!” Amell stomps one of her feet. “Excuse me for having a _job_!”

“You have a _job_ with the _company_ that _made_ the MMO!” Anders is back to being accusatory. “I can’t be linked to any of you people! The corruption is –”

“Anders, stop being rude to this beautiful woman,” Isabela says. “Amell, was it? Amell, let’s have a drink.” Isabela loops an arm around Amell’s waist, pulling her towards the bar.

“I can’t believe that you’re here,” Nathaniel says. He’s still staring at Anders. “It seems I just can’t get away from you.”

Anders shrugs. “I can say the same of you, Arrow Time.”

Is that Nathaniel’s username? _Arrow Time_?

That’s cute.

He also has a very cute nose.

His beard, on the other hand, is sub-par. I’m not one for the soul patch.

His nose makes up for it.

“Whatever. Guild business is guild business.” Nathaniel turns away. “I’m not going to complain unless the Commanders have a problem with you.”

 “I have a problem with him!” Amell calls out.  

“That’s one out of two,” Nathaniel mutters. He heads back over to the dartboard.

That was kind of scary.

“Hardcore guilds are a mystery to me,” Aveline says. “Hello, Garrett. Fenris.”

“Hello!” I chirp.

“I can’t believe this!” Amell is pissed. “What’s Mage Rights Activist doing here? No one told me that he’s a member of Wicked Grace!”

“Trust me, Amell,” Zevran says. “It is a miracle that I even remembered Wicked Grace’s name. I could never remember its members’ usernames.”

“He can’t even remember Anders’ _real_ name,” I add. 

“I rest my case,” Zevran says, smirking.

“He abandoned us!” This knowledge doesn’t calm Amell down at all.

“It’s alright,” Cousland is back. “He’s just in a smaller guild now.”

“He took a bunch of our Sovereigns when he left!” Amell frowns. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Save it for PvP.” Cousland sits back down on the stool next to mine. He pulls Zevran back onto his lap, too.

That’s when I realize something.

“You play the MMO, Cousland!”

“We have been over this, Gare,” Zevran says.

“No – you _play_ the MMO – and you have a guild!” Forming sentences is hard. “Like, you have a _guild_. And – Amell? She’s the other leader!”

“Pretty much,” Cousland says. “Like I said, I don’t play that often.”

“I run things most of the time.” Amell clutches her Experimental Draught. “Half of the guild has no idea where Cousland is.”

“Anders screamed something about you working for the MMO’s production company, too,” Aveline says. “Oh, my name’s Aveline, by the way.”

“Hey. I’m Amell.” Amell frowns. “I’m a programmer, yeah. I’ve been with this company for a long time. I have to do some job stuff at the convention.”

“Amell’s a bigwig.” Varric’s next to me. I didn’t even see him walk over here. He does this too often. Can he teleport? “You better play nice with her. Here’s to hoping that Anders’ presence doesn’t put her _completely_ off Wicked Grace.”

Amell pouts. “I’m not _that_ shallow.”

“Your guild…” My head’s spinning. There’s so much new information.

“They’re the leaders of the Wardens of the Grey.” Varric says. “Or, colloquially… The Grey Wardens.”

The Grey Wardens.

They’re _known_. They’re an elite guild, named after a canonical, in-game faction.

And… Cousland?

I’ve known Cousland for years. Miles is Cousland’s dog’s brother!

Miles is connected to the Grey Wardens!

Varric scampers off to socialize with more people that I don’t know.

“What the hell?!”

“Calm down, Hawke,” Fenris says, gently.

“Miles is related to a Grey Warden!” My own dog!

“Is he drunk?” Aveline asks. She’s standing next to Fenris with a bottle of beer in hand.

“Yes,” Fenris replies.

“Kitten!” Isabela is mortified. “You said that you weren’t drunk!”

“I’m not drunk!” I whine. “Cousland, how did I _not_ know this?!”

“I told you that I played the MMO,” Cousland says.

That’s completely irrelevant! “You said that people don’t know where you are. Your guild is right here!”

“Hawke.” Fenris’ voice is so calming. “This isn’t the entire guild.”

“Oh.”

“Believe it or not, most guilds aren’t as small as Wicked Grace,” Aveline says. She takes a swig of her beer. “Now… I’m off to supervise that dart match, before Merrill accidentally takes someone’s eye out.”

“Good luck, Vallen,” Isabela says. “Now, what does a girl have to do to get a _drink_ around here? Where did Varric go?”

“He’s over there.” Fenris points towards Varric, who’s currently chatting with a woman wearing an alarmingly large fur coat.

“I’m going to put _so much_ shit on his tab. Ooh! Bethany!” Isabela waves at my little sister.

Bethany waves back. She’s still very giggly. I guess darts are fun.

I can’t believe that Isabela is pursuing my little sister.

I gaze, forlornly, into my drink.

“How could I be so blind?” I murmur.

“Tipsy Garrett is a gift to the world,” Zevran says. “I wish to see drunk Garrett. It is time for another round!”

“I’ll pass,” Amell says. “I need my wits about me… I gotta keep an eye on Mage Rights Activist.”

“Anders is harmless,” Isabela says. “Look at him! He’s munching on peanuts.”

She’s right. He’s sitting at a table, snacking away on peanuts.

“He wants you to assume that he’s harmless,” Amell mutters.

“No, he’s genuinely harmless,” Isabela insists. “Believe me. There are bigger threats out there.”

I roll my eyes. “Like you?”

“Shut up, Kitten,” Isabela says, sweetly. She calls the bartender over, and he starts up on another round of drinks.

I finish off my Experimental Draught, and it’s literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.

What was my life before the Draught?

It was nothing, that’s what.

I still want peanuts.

“I want peanuts,” I wail.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… Here, Hawke.” Fenris reaches over the bar counter and grabs onto a small bowl of peanuts. It was stored under there, I guess.

He plops it down on the counter in front of me.

“I can’t believe it.” I can feel the tears coming. “Fenris! You did this… For me! That was _stealing_. You did it for _me_.”

“The peanuts are free,” Fenris says.

“That doesn’t matter.” I start cramming peanuts into my mouth.

“Okay,” Fenris says. “Don’t choke.”

Zevran cackles. “Like I said… Tipsy Gare is a gift to the world. Fenris, you are a saint, and we simply _must_ get to know each other better.”

“Fenris isn’t a serial killer, Zevran, so don’t ask,” I drawl.

“I was not going to ask,” Zevran says. “Though, I must admit, that is good to know.”

Fenris smirks, and that makes me smile.

I love peanuts.

Corff brings some more drinks over to us. These ones are neon blue, which is alarming, but I have learnt not to judge things until I try them.

Varric tells the lady with the bun to give drinks out to the other people in the bar, too.

Isabela cheers and wiggles her hips.

Zevran also cheers. Then he kisses Cousland a lot.

I can’t stop smiling.

I drink some of the blue drink and it tastes like peanuts… Probably because I am eating peanuts.

The world is fuzzy. Fuzzy in a good way.

Everything is warm.

Cousland says something. Fenris laughs.

Everything is perfect.

~

“I fucking love the Hanged Man!”

“Stand up straight, Hawke,” Fenris says.

“Okay!” I try to stand up straight. I am not sure if I am actually standing up straight. “I love the Hanged Man! I want to live here.”

“Yes, yes.” Fenris puts an arm around me and helps me stand up.

“Where are we going? Are we leaving?” I can’t believe this! I don’t want to go!

“Yes, Hawke… We’re leaving.”

“ _Why_?” I flail around a little as he leads me away from the bar counter.

Fenris sighs.

It’s a cute sigh.

“That was cute,” I inform him.

He doesn’t reply.

I look around. Isabela has her arm around Bethany’s shoulders. They’re standing in front of me and giggling a lot.

I like that.

“I like you two,” I tell them.

“Well, we _love_ you, Kitten,” Isabela says. She’s so _nice_.

I love her!

“Hawke, can you walk?”

“Yes, Mom,” I say.

“I… Am not your mother.” Mom’s arms are folded. “Okay, it’s definitely time to go back to the hotel. Hawke’s hallucinating.”

“Gotcha, Big Girl!” Isabela sings and she sounds all slurred. “Let’s get out of here. C’mon, Bethy.”

Bethany’s very giggly. “Garrett, you called Aveline ‘ _mom_.’”

What? Was that Aveline?!

It totally was!

“Where is everyone?” Aveline ( _not Mom!_ ) asks. “Should we all head back together?”

“Yeah,” Isabela replies. “Zev and Cousland went to the bathroom. Amell is with Anders.”

It’s true. Amell is sitting at a table with Anders. They’re engaged in a very heated conversation and are surrounded by empty glasses.

"I hate the Circles!” Anders is on another one of his lore tangents. “They’re fucking prisons!”

"Okay, but, you know, the one in Kinloch Hold?” Amell points at herself. “I helped with the animation for the rat guy quest. The one in the Fade."

"I hate you, and I hate that quest.”

“He’s a rat guy!” Amell hollers. “He’s cute!"

 “No. I spent 14 hours doing that quest.”

“I spent like 400 hours _animating_ it, you butt!”

…I’m going to bring this up the next time Morrigan accuses me of being too nerdy in public.

“Should we go get Zevran and Cousland?” Aveline asks, warily.

“I’m on it. You can count on me!” Isabela salutes. “Wait for me, Sunshine.”

Bethany nods, and Isabela scurries off.

She runs past Sebastian and Nathaniel, who have been talking all night.

I don’t know what they’re talking about. I haven’t approached them at all. They seem to be very good friends, though.

So that’s cool. Very cool. I stare at them for a while.

“Sebastian’s nose is nice,” I say. “Don’t you think so?”

No response.

“Fenris?” I frown. “Fenris, don’t you think so?”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were talking to me. Um.” Fenris looks over to Sebastian, too. “It’s… Decent.”

“Decent?!” I can’t believe this! “Fenris, if Sebastian has a nose that’s just _decent_ , there’s no hope for _me_.”

“Garrett, calm down,” Aveline says.

“You’re not my mother,” I retort.

And… That makes me laugh, because… I called her my mom a few minutes ago!

“Your nose is fine, Hawke,” Fenris tells me.

“Aw! Fenris!” I’m so lucky to know Fenris. That was so sweet. “Fenris, that was so sweet. I love your nose, too!”

“Garrett…” Aveline groans. “Should we try to sober him up?”

“He ate all of the peanuts,” Fenris says. “I don’t think we should ask for more. Corff might charge us.”

“Fair enough,” Aveline says.

I sniff. “I don’t want to buy peanuts.”

“You won’t have to,” Aveline says.

Fenris steadies me, because, apparently, I am slowly sagging to the floor.

The Hanged Man is so amazing. It’s beautiful.

The lighting is so… _Orange_.

“I’d like another drink, please,” I say.

“Hawke, I love you, but I’ll cry if you put anything else on my tab.” Varric’s here!

“Varric!” I lean down and hug him.

He pats my back and it’s very nice.

“Are we going back?” He asks.

“Yes,” Fenris says. “Supposedly.”

Fenris helps me straighten up again. I lean against him. He’s so warm.

“Are we leaving? Darn!” And now Merrill’s here!

“Merrill!” I cheer.

“Hello, Garrett!” Merrill’s holding a mug in her hands.

Aveline’s eyeing it. “Merrill, dare I ask what that is?”

“Oh, this is tea,” Merrill says. “I warmed the water up myself. Norah showed me the kitchen. It’s rather small, but it got the job done!”

“Drinking tea at a bar?” Varric shakes his head. “Classic Daisy.”

“Who is _Norah_?” I never met her. “Can I meet Norah?”

“She’s the waitress,” Bethany says. “You met her already.”

“The bun lady?!” That was Norah?!

“Yes!” Bethany nods, very enthusiastically.

“I met Norah and I didn’t even know it!” I’m incredulous.

I hear some more voices that I know. Isabela’s back. She has Zevran and Cousland… They’re disheveled. Cousland’s hair is sticking up all over the place.

“Are you two alright?” I ask them. “Did you get mugged?”

“We are _more_ than fine, Gare,” Zevran says.

“Did you catch the mugger?” Bars are scary. Not even the Hanged Man is safe from criminal activity…

“Nathaniel, we’re leaving,” Cousland calls out. I guess he caught the mugger. That’s Cousland for you.

Nathaniel and Sebastian walk over to us.

Sebastian’s hair isn’t slicked down anymore. His shirt’s also a bit rumpled, and he’s a little sweaty.

He says something in his pretty accent.

It’s so pretty.

“I got a prize for it!” Merrill puffs her chest out.

Shit, I totally missed what Sebastian said. His accent distracted me.

“And the Hanged Man officially has a dart embedded in its roof,” Varric says. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“She plays a mean game,” Bethany remarks.

They keep saying stuff.

I’m… Woozy.

“We lost the war against sobriety, gang,” Varric says. “Hawke’s pretty far gone. Everyone else is tipsy at best.”

“I have the tolerance of Dionysus,” Isabela says.

“ _Dionysus_?” Bethany repeats.

“Yes, Sunshine.” Isabela grins. “ _Dionysus_.”

Bethany cracks up. She laughs so hard that she snorts, and she doesn’t even get embarrassed!

“Like I said: Tipsy at best.” Varric chuckles.

“There’s always tomorrow night,” Fenris says.

“Tomorrow’s the first day of the convention!” I exclaim.

“Yes, it is, Hawke... Yes, it is. Anyway, let’s go.” Varric starts marching towards the door, yelling out some words of thanks to the other patrons. I follow him – Fenris keeps his arm around me for support.

What a great guy.

“Anders, stop pestering Amell. We’re leaving.”

“It’s a _broken system_ – what?” Anders squints up at us. He’s all red. “Already? I’m not even drunk yet!”

Amell giggles. “I win.”

Anders frowns. “Listen, Grand Enchanter –”

“Not hearing it, Mage Rights Activist!” Amell’s talking a little funny.

“You okay, Amell?” Cousland asks.

“Yes!” Amell exclaims. “I am very okay!”

“More like very _drunk_ ,” Nathaniel says.

Anders stands up and grumbles some more _lore_ things. The lore never stops.

“I wish I knew lore, too,” I mumble.

“You’re fine as you are,” Fenris replies. “Believe me.”

I’m _completely_ leaning against him.

He’s so much shorter than me! This is ridiculous.

That being said… He’s strong.

If he’s holding me up, he has to be, right?

I zone out a little.

Then we’re walking again. We go outside. It smells bad – like cigarettes. I’m bad with cigarette smoke. It makes me cough.

So, of course, I start coughing. Fenris doesn’t mind.

The Wardens of the Grey (and Zevran) follow us.

Supported by Cousland and Nathaniel, Amell stumbles up to me. “In that tavern, I felt the Maker.”

“Of course you did, my little bluebird,” Zevran says.

“I felt Him, too,” I whisper. “Oh my god. I felt Him, too.”

Sebastian laughs. Of course, _the priest_ thinks that’s funny.

“I’m sure you were _feeling_ someone else, Sebastian,” Isabela coos.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Isabela.” Sebastian masterfully deflects her comment.

I wish that I could deflect like a master, too.

It’d make the Operation a lot less scary.

I groan. “The Operation…”

“What did you say?” Fenris asks.

Shit. Fenris isn’t supposed to know about the Operation.

 _Shit_.

Why did I say that?! Did I mess the whole thing up?

I can feel the tears coming on.

“Hawke!” Anders whacks me on the back. “Race you back to the hotel!”

A challenge! I don’t have time to be sad!

“Foolish mage!” I holler. “You can’t possibly compete against the might of a Champion!”

I push myself off Fenris and take off running.

The wind’s in my face. The streetlights lining the pavement are shining.

I can hear Aveline yelling for me to stop. I don’t stop, though. The night air feels _good_ against my skin.

Plus, I can’t possibly lose to Anders.

Where is he, anyway?! _He_ challenged _me_!

I turn around, jogging backwards. “Hey, Anders –”

Suddenly, I’m on my back.

Lying down in the middle of the pavement.

“Good job, Hawke!” Anders calls out.

I fell over.

It’s the funniest thing ever.

“That fucking hurt!” I scream, even though it didn’t.

“Suck it up, Kitten!” Isabela calls out.

I don’t want to suck it up.

A light is shining down on me – I guess I crashed into a streetlight.

And, in this moment?

In this moment, I’m sprawled out in the middle of the sidewalk. I’m laughing so hard, tears are streaming down my face.

The asphalt is nice and cold.

I can hear the people I love laughing.

I’m so fucking happy.

I could stay like this forever.

~

After much trial and error, we returned to the Amerid Inn. Fenris supported me for most of the trip back… We had a quick meal at the hotel’s café. I honestly can’t remember how that went. I don’t even remember what I ate.

All I know is that I sobered up enough to not be a _complete_ mess.

Our rooms are on the same floor, but they’re separated. Since there’s a Convention so close by, the hotel’s seeing more business than usual, so it was the best we could do… Hell, we were lucky enough to get three rooms.

Anyway, once Aveline, Fenris and I were back in what Isabela calls the “Warrior room,” Aveline immediately called dibs on one of the beds, because _of course she did_.

“I kick,” she said. “Don’t want to bruise either of you delicate boys.”

It was such a bad excuse. However, I was too intoxicated to really grasp the sheer _diabolicalness_ of her actions.

Now, it’s three in the morning, according to my phone’s clock, and I, Garrett Malcolm Hawke, am _extremely_ aware of her treachery.

I sigh.

I am so incredibly sober in this moment. Not hung over – not yet, no. I’m in that lukewarm stage of being post-drunk where everything is just kind of sluggish.

I’m also hyper-aware of someone sleeping close to me.

Why did I have to wake up?! I fell asleep right after we got back. Fenris wasn’t even in bed yet.

I slept for hours, so…

He’s in bed now.

I’m also in bed.

The… Same bed.

I knew they’d do this.

A part of me was in denial. _Garrett, that’s way too predictable_ , that part of me said. _Forcing you into a bed with Fenris? So predictable. Your friends are better than that._

Evidently, they aren’t better than that.

I don’t want to look right at him, because if I do I’ll probably panic and try to flee. I don’t even know anyone else’s room numbers.

I _could_ text someone for help…

Who’s the least likely to screw me over right now? I scroll through my contact list.  

There’s Anders. He has no sympathy for these plights and would potentially mock me, so he’s out.

Isabela? Hell no. She’d lock me in a damn closet with Fenris if the opportunity presented itself.

Sebastian’s the reason why I’m in this predicament, so he’s definitely out.

Varric has been relatively tame during the Operation, which makes me nervous, because I think it means he has a huge master plan. One that does _not_ need a catalyst. So… No text for him.

Merrill’s sweet, but I don’t think she’d understand why this is a problem for me… Plus, she’s a strong supporter of the Operation.

Meanwhile, Carver doesn’t care about the Operation. That could be used to my advantage. He’s terrible at checking his phone, though. He might not see the text until we’re back home, post-Convention.

Plus, he’s mean.

Bethany, on the other hand, _would_ check her phone, but she’d also tell me to stop being pathetic. There’s also the chance that she’ll relay sensitive information to Isabela. That’s not a chance I’m willing to take.

I could call Mom, but she’d just give me a safe sex lecture… Even though I’m twenty-seven years old and sufficiently educated in such things.

Zevran and Cousland are completely out of the question, for a reason that I don’t want to go into detail about.

That leaves Morrigan. If I text Morrigan, she’ll definitely tell me to shut the fuck up. Or I might accidentally wake up her son, which would result in her possibly murdering me once I’m back home.

I sigh and put my phone back down on the bedside table. If I stay on my side like this, I won’t have to see Fenris, and I’ll avoid getting myself into a panic…

I stare at Aveline. She’s in the other bed, across the room.

Her arms are completely spread out. She’s enjoying her space.

She also isn’t kicking at all.

She lied about that.

I can’t believe the Operation has Aveline _lying_.

This bed is soft and fluffy. I’m content. I… Am listening to Fenris breathe.

Oh god.

He’s sleeping. I know he is. His breathing is all even.

I didn’t want to look at him before. He’s sleeping, and looking at him while he sleeps is… Creepy.

It’s totally creepy.

Isn’t it?

I don’t know!

My heart is beating so damn loudly and my mouth is dry.

…I’m making way too much of a big deal out of this.

One peek. That’s all.

That’s all!

I turn over, onto my back, and stare up at the ceiling. The moonlight makes the room look all blue.

Okay, deep breaths. I slowly… _Slowly_ … Turn my head towards Fenris.

He’s sleeping on his side; curled slightly and facing me. His hair is messy – he can’t push it to one side of his face while he sleeps, so it’s mostly covering his eyes. I can vaguely see his eyelashes.

His tattoos are silver, catching the moonlight. Sharper and crisper than ever… Almost as if they’re glowing.

His mouth is a little open. He’s drooling.

He’s beautiful.

His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm and maybe it’s pathetic to admit this, but… Contrary to what I thought a few minutes ago… Seeing Fenris sleep calms me down.

I try to match my breaths with his.

I close my eyes.

~

“Rise and shine, Kitten!”

Something is on my face.

It’s wet.

I open my eyes. Isabela is standing over me, and she has something pressed against my cheek.

“What the fuck?!” I launch out of bed. She starts laughing. “Isabela!”

“You weren’t waking up!” She holds her hand out. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s just a wet towel. How do you feel?” She throws the wet towel to some corner of the room.

Dammit, Isabela. Why do I keep waking up to her shenanigans?!

My head hurts.

Fenris isn’t in bed anymore.

“Where…” I blink. “Fenris?”

“Very eloquent, Garrett,” Aveline says. She’s already started putting on her costume. She’s wearing a white, collared shirt and stylistically grungy, tan-colored pants. Her brown, studded tunic is on her bed, right next to her sword and shield props. Various other accessories are on it, too.

She looks amazing and like she could kick my ass - which she totally could. That goes without saying.

“Fenris is in the bathroom. He’s getting ready.”

“What?! What time is it?” I reach out for my phone and grab it. It’s 8:30. That’s… An hour earlier than I was planning to wake up.

“It’s early,” Isabela says. “I took a shower, then was so bloody _bored_ that I came out here.” She stretches. She hasn’t started putting on her costume yet – she’s wearing an oversized shirt with a skull and crossbones.

“And yet you didn’t even try to get ready,” Aveline says.

“I didn’t want to wake up Varric or Sebastian!” Isabela retorts. “They’re so _angelic_ while they sleep…”

“Whatever.” Aveline picks up one of her accessories for her costume – one of the faux-leather straps that she has to fasten around her shoulders. “Come help me with these damn straps.”

“Kinky,” Isabela and I say, in unison.

We then proceed to high-five each other as Aveline groans.

Isabela helps her while I sort of just bumble around the room, opening my suitcase and setting stuff aside.

My headache pretty much confirms that I have a hangover… Though it’s not too bad.

“Garrett, drink some water, okay?” Aveline says. “Rehydrate.”

“Got it.” I dive for the mini-fridge in a corner of the room and grab a bottle.

“No! Kitten!” Isabela is horrified. “They might charge you for that!”

“I’m desperate!” I wail.  

“I, for one, am offended by how _weak_ you are!” Isabela fastens the second strap onto Aveline’s other arm. “However, I am _not_ offended by the bed situation in this room. Well done, Vallen.”

Of course, Isabela assumed that Aveline’s the one who got Fenris and me in the same bed. She knows me well, so she _obviously_ knows that I’d never volunteer for something like that.

Aveline grins. “I support this match-making fiasco, too, you know.”

“I knew you had it in you!” Isabela pats Aveline arm. “There you go. You look _strapping_.”

She cracks up at her horrible pun.

Aveline and I choose to ignore it.

I fumble with the water bottle, downing most of its contents in a few massive gulps. I take an Advil, too – luckily, I packed a pretty wide assortment of medicine. I like to be prepared.

While I’m battling this mild hangover, Isabela is chattering about how she’s going to do Merrill’s face tattoo.

I don’t really know anything about that. So I just stare at the box in my suitcase.

My armor’s in there.

I worked my ass off to make that armor. It better still be in one piece.

…I hope it fits. I’ve been pigging out a _lot_ lately.

Before Conventions, most people like to work out so that they look great in their costumes.

Me? I stress-eat crappy pizza.

“Do you need help, Garrett?” Aveline asks. “I don’t need thismuch time to get ready… I didn’t go the full-armor route.”

That’s true. Aveline’s character usually wears plate armor, but she didn’t want to be weighed down during the Convention.

 “I’ll probably need help, yeah,” I say, as I grab onto the box. “I… Just gotta open this up first.” I give it a few tugs… It’s wedged in there.

“Move.” Aveline walks over; I get out of her way. She grabs onto the box and yanks it right out of my suitcase in a fast, fluid movement.

“That’s my girl,” Isabela coos.

“Save that sort of talk for Bethany, Rivaini,” Aveline retorts, smirking.

“Ooh, Vallen. You’re getting slyer by the minute!” Isabela laughs and shakes her head. “Do I _know_ you anymore?”

“Thanks, Aveline!” I skillfully change the subject and get to work on opening up the box.

I still don’t have the mental capacity to talk to Isabela about her Bethany situation. I want to, eventually. I’m just not ready yet.

It’s… Weird.

I’m a protective older brother, it’s true. I don’t mess around when it comes to family stuff… If someone else had their eye on Bethany, I’d be rolling in background checks and maybe hiring a hitman.

I trust Isabela. I don’t think she’d hurt Bethany, but…

Ugh, I really don’t want to think about this right now.

Instead, I think about how a thick layer of bubble wrap is separating me from my costume. Dammit. I need to find scissors.

I also need to keep this bubble wrap away from Merrill.

I have a “Costume Repair Kit” and I _know_ I have scissors in there. I pull out the plastic container from my suitcase and start rummaging through it.

Meanwhile, Isabela is attempting to coerce Aveline into letting her do her hair. (Her logic is that she’s already doing Merrill’s and Bethany’s, so it should be “her job.” Aveline, of course, remains unconvinced.)

I have fabric tape, safety pins, hair pins, a stain remover, sewing supplies… All of that good stuff.

I do _not_ have a pair of scissors. “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Fenris steps out of the bathroom.

He started getting ready, too.

He’s wearing a dark brown shirt – it’s long and leathery, going down to his thighs, lined with a strip of gold material – and matching tight pants.

Pointy sleeves are attached to his shirt. They’re like feathers, only rigid. They were probably cut out of the same type of leather, too. Most of his shirt is buttoned up; he has it open past his belt... His belt is made out of darker leather, and it has a fancy buckle. Did he make that buckle himself?! Hell, the whole belt is fancy. It’s big and has lots of… Looping.

Anyway, his pants fit his legs _really_ well.  His shirt fits his form well, too.

Also, he hasn’t brushed his hair yet, so it’s still wet and kind of messy.

To put it simply: He looks fucking incredible, and he’s not even completely ready.

 “Why are you all staring at me?” He sounds defensive. Oops.

“Fenris! You are _unbelievably_ sexy right now!” Isabela sprints over to him, grabbing onto his hands. “If I didn’t have my sights set on someone else, I’d –”

“Shut up, Isabela,” Aveline says, effectively saving me from a potentially awkward situation. “You look incredible so far, Fenris.”

“You do, too,” Fenris says. He looks down at the floor and walks past me quickly. Is he flustered?

Is he _blushing_?

I can’t see his face. He’s going through his suitcase, and his back is to me… Holy shit. His shirt has a thin, open slit in the back, running down the length of his spine. There’s even more detailed leatherwork on the back of his armor…

Is Fenris secretly a leatherworker?! His armor’s _exactly_ like the one he wears in-game… That unique mix of light and heavy armor.

My mouth is so dry.

He takes out two objects out of his suitcase. They’re both covered up in bubble wrap, so I have no idea what they are.

“What were you saying, Hawke?” He asks, quietly.

He looks so _good_.

“Hey, Kitten!” Isabela flicks my back, giggling.

“Huh?” I blink. “What?”

Fenris sighs. “You exclaimed an expletive. I believe the exact word was ‘shit.’”

“Oh! Right!” Wow, I’m a disaster. “I forgot to pack scissors. I need a pair.”

“You _do_ need a pair.”

“Very funny, Isabela!” She’s such a jerk.

“I have scissors,” Fenris says. “Here.” He pokes around in his suitcase some more, then pulls out a pair of scissors out.

“Thanks!” I grin. “I have to free everything now…” I also have to take a shower.

Freeing things comes first.

It’s a slow process. There’s the chest piece… The gauntlets. The spiky shoulder things. The spiky knee things. The spiky boot things. I have no idea what the proper terms for any of these things are. Frankly, whenever I wear this costume, I just feel like a walking metal death machine…

…The armor isn’t made out of _real_ metal, of course.

Anyway, there’s also the fake chainmail that Merrill sent me from Sabrae, belts, my sword (which isn’t nearly as big as I want it to be, but I digress), and the stuff I’m wearing underneath all the armor…

Along with that random scrap of red cloth and the makeshift family crest.

Nothing broke. It’s a miracle.

Isabela manages to convince Aveline to do her makeup.

Fenris goes back to rummaging through his suitcase.

I’m trying not to look at him... I feel like I say that too often.

Honestly, if I don’t make an active effort to _not_ look at him, I’d be staring at him most of the time.

He hasn’t been looking at me much, either. Maybe he feels the same way.

Just kidding. There’s no way.

I sigh.

“Are you alright, Garrett?” Aveline asks.

“Yeah.” I totally wasn’t losing all hope that Fenris returns my feelings. Nope. No way. “I need to take shower… Then I’ll change into this.”

“It looks wonderful, Kitten!” Isabela chirps. “I can’t wait to see it on you... I’ll give you a full body inspection.” She winks.

“I’ll pass.” I grab the clothes that I’ll be wearing underneath all of the armor – a simple black shirt and black pants. “Thanks, though.”

I head over to the bathroom and take a quick look at Fenris.

He’s holding a small, transparent container. It has light brown cream in it.

“What is that, Fenny?” Isabela walks over to him and leans on his shoulder. “Concealer? A little goes a long way, you know.”

Fenris frowns. “It’s cover-up cream for my tattoos.”

Woah! “All of your tattoos? Isn’t that a lot?” It’s a full-body tattoo, after all.

Fenris shakes his head. “No, Hawke. I was just going to cover the ones exposed by the costume.”

“Oh.” Good job, Garrett. Way to make a fool out of yourself.

“Fenris!” Isabela steps away from Fenris, clutching her chest in shock. “No! Don’t cover them up! They look so hot!”

“They _do_ add a certain flair to your costume.” Aveline nods. “I wouldn’t go through the trouble of covering them up.”

Fenris stares down at the container. He’s torn.

I feel like I should say something.

The glares that Isabela and Aveline are sending my way confirm that I should.

“It’s your call,” I say. “I mean, your tattoos are part of you, right? So I don’t see what’s wrong with them. They don’t ruin anything.”

 Fenris’ eyes meet mine.

Did I say something wrong? Shit!

“Anyway, like I said, it’s your call!” I squeak. “I’m going to shower now! See you guys in a bit!”

 I rush into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

~

“I want swirls around my eyes! I want it to be very flowy.”

“Daisy! Hold still.” Right now, Isabela and I are in the Mage Room, and Isabela’s squinting as she slowly pencils in Merrill’s face tattoos. She’s using a light-grey pencil; I think it’s eyeliner. Merrill’s sitting on the edge of her bed, and Isabela is sitting in a chair right in front of her. “Can I have a flower on my cheek?” Merrill asks. “Or maybe a smiling face?”

“Merrill, the blood writing you want isn’t even canonical,” Anders pipes up from across the room. “Please don’t make them even weirder.”

Anders is already dressed – he’s wearing his fancy mage robes. There’s a grey robe, with a brown quilted coat fastened over it. It’s fastened with a lot of different belts and gold-colored rings…  He also has a blue jacket with a lot of feathers attached to his shoulders. He’s so _fluffy_. He always takes his costumes so seriously.

His staff is propped up next to where he’s sitting.

I’m not dressed yet. I’m just wearing the clothes that go under all of my armor. I figured I’d change last, since I’m the only one of us who’s wearing heavy armor and I want to cling onto my mobility while I still have it.

“Anders, I know all about Vallaslin, okay?” Merrill pouts. “I just want to make my own design! I think that’s more fun.”

Merrill’s ready, too – she just has to do her face paint and put on her elf ears.

She’s wearing a thin, chainmail-like bodysuit over a black bodysuit… She has fluffy pauldrons, too.

I guess the mages of Wicked Grace like fluffy things.

Anyway, Merrill has a sleeveless green tunic on over everything. A yellow scarf is wrapped around her neck, and a leather belt with intricate carvings is looped around her waist. She’s wearing thigh-high leather boots that match the carved pattern on her belt. The boots open up over her toes and have no heels – she looks like she’s not wearing any shoes at all. She’s also wearing fingerless gloves with the same pattern.

She nailed the elf look, that’s for sure.

“I can’t believe that people actually cosplay for _fun_ ,” Anders says, grinning.

“I know, right?” I laugh.

“Daisy, I drew the smiling face,” Isabela says.

She did; it’s right on Merrill’s left cheek. Merrill claps in delight.

“Let me see, let me see!”

Isabela hands her a compact mirror.

“Ooh, it’s wonderful, Isabela! Thank you so much!” Merrill wraps her arms around Isabela, pulling her into a hug.

“You’re most welcome, sweet thing.” Isabela stands up, then drags the chair back to its place next to the desk. “Make sure that you set it with powder.”

Merrill gasps. “I don’t have any! What should I do?”

“I have some in my room,” Isabela says. “You can use it.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Isabela!” Merrill smiles up at her.

Her face tattoo looks so cute… The little smiling face makes it even better.

“Make it up to me! Help me buckle my bloody costume,” Isabela says.

“Of course!” Merrill yells. “Let’s go – oh, Bethany! Let’s bring Bethany!”

Merrill hops off the bed and dashes to the bathroom door. It’s closed right now… Bethany’ getting ready in there.

“Bethany!” Merrill knocks on the door. “I’m going to help Isabela put on her costume! Do you if you want to come?”

“Okay, one sec!” Bethany yells from the bathroom.

Isabela turns to me. “She’s dressing as a Grey Warden, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” It’s hilarious how Bethany chose that outfit before we even knewabout Cousland and Amell’s guild… Though the Grey Wardens are a pretty popular costume choice. “She’s been in Scale Hell for months.”

“I’m so _excited_!” Isabela giggles. “I’m sure she’ll be _amazing_.”

She sounds so _happy_.

“Okay, here I am!” Bethany opens the bathroom door and steps out into the room.

I’ve seen Bethany in her costume before, but only when we were in the Carpentry, sweaty and pizza-stained. It’s my first time seeing the whole ensemble so… put-together.

She’s wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and matching black pants – we picked those up at a local thrift shop. Her brigandine is dark blue and padded, with tons of silver studs attached to it. Her tabard is a lighter shade of blue, and…

Let’s just say that her time in Scale Hell paid off.

The silver-colored scales that she painstakingly cut and layered are arranged into four neat columns on her tabard. Matching leather gloves and boots complete the whole costume, along with leather armbands.

My sister’s a Grey Warden.

I’m getting emotional.

I sit down on Merrill’s bed.

Merrill is squealing and hopping in place, saying that she loves conventions, that she loves mages, and that _we need to take so many photos together_!

“I can’t believe that is your first costume,” Anders says. “You’re a Grey Warden, that’s for sure.”

“Bethany, I’m so proud of you!” I splutter.

“Thanks, Garrett.” Bethany’s bright red and her smile is so wide. She’s obviously proud of herself, too.

Surprisingly, Isabela’s been quiet. I look over to her.  She’s staring at Bethany, and...

I’m dense when it comes to this sort of stuff. I’m well aware of that, though I’ll never admit it to my friends.

Despite that, I _definitely_ know what that look in Isabela’s eyes means.

It’s not the look of someone who’s on a mission for a prize. It’s not lustful or wanting or anything like that.

Frankly speaking, it’s tender and honest. It’s not a look that I’ve seen Isabela give many people.

Hell, if I pointed out to her, I know she’d _vehemently_ deny its existence.

Something in me flickers. It’s almost like relief - not entirely in a “protective older brother” sense. No, it’s more like… Gratitude.

“Sunshine, you’ve outdone yourself,” Isabela says.

Bethany laughs, and I smile.

~

Fenris is leaning against a table, in front of a mirror. He’s positioning fake, pointy tips onto his ears.

I’m standing in the doorway and staring at him.

I don’t think he knows I’m here.

Everyone left for the Rogue Room, so I decided to sneak away and get ready. I thought Fenris left, too. I guess he didn’t.

Two spiky gauntlets are on the table that he’s leaning against, along with a chest piece. He’s seems mostly ready.

I should probably stop staring at him like a creep, though. “Hey!” I say, way too loudly.

Fenris glances over to me. “Hey.”

“Are you ready?” I shuffle past him, being careful not to trip or do something equally awkward.

“Mm. Yeah. Mostly. Spirit gum is… Convenient.”

“Yeah! Merrill said the same thing.” She hasn’t stuck her tips onto her ears yet, though. I guess she’ll do it in the Rogue Room. “So, you’re not covering your tattoos, then?”

“I’m not.” He manages to get one ear tip on securely. “I trust your judgement, I suppose.”

He smirks.

He looks so goofy! One ear’s pointed, but not the other.

“I’m glad!” I inspect my armor. It’s spread out all over my bed... Well, it’s Fenris’ bed, too. So… It’s spread out all over _our_ bed.

I usually have Bethany around to help with this whole putting-on process. Bethany, however, has abandoned me for Isabela’s buckles.

“Do you need help?” Fenris is attaching the other tip, now. “I’ll be done here soon.”

Way to go, Garrett! You made this costume yourself – you should be able to put it on _by yourself_!

“That, uh…” Fenris had to deal with drunk-Garrett last night. I don’t want bother him even more… Then again, if I lie and say that I don’t need help, he’ll see me floundering around. “To be honest, that’d be much appreciated.”

“Okay.”

My hands are sweaty. I wipe them on my shirt as I watch Fenris. The second tip is on, so both of his ears are pointed, now.

Despite his tattoos, he looks _exactly_ like his character… It’s a little disconcerting.

I remember when we first met on the MMO. I was so shy.

I convinced myself that there was _no way_ Fenris looked like his character. That was the only way I could actually interact with him…

Then, of course, it turned out that Fenris was a carbon-copy of his character.

It’s funny how Wicked Grace’s members are all like that… I mean, most of us planned it. Fenris and Sebastian were both coincidental.

It feels almost like fate.

“Hawke?” He raises an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?” Oops, I was staring.

“No! You just… You look great!” I scratch the back of my head. “Really! You look exactly like your character.”

“Thanks,” Fenris says. “I still have some armor to put on, but I can do that after I help you.”

“Okay, sure!” I get into the chainmail, in the meantime. At least I don’t need help with _this_.

I put my damn _soul_ into my costume.

I didn’t make it _for_ Fenris! Really, everyone who said that… They’re all wrong.

It’s true that I want to impress him, but… I’m mostly just excited to be the Champion. It’s a personal thing, you know?

Anyway, Fenris walks over to me. He looks at the armor, too.

“You did a very good job,” he says, quietly. “I suppose it’s no surprise. You _did_ say you were good with your hands.”

 I laugh. “It’s true, okay?! I’m a carpenter!”

“Well then, Mr. Carpenter…” Fenris folds his arms. “Where do you suggest we begin?”

Okay, Garrett. Do _not_ fuck this up.

 “I’d say the chest piece,” I say. “It has two parts that fasten into one.”

“Sounds good.” Fenris helps me into the chest piece… I hold the front part up while he fastens it on to the back.

“Don’t stab yourself,” I say. “It’s not real metal, of course, but…”

Fenris laughs. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

Holy crap.

First I sleep next to him, now he’s getting me _dressed_ …

Or, rather, he’s putting armor on me. Huh.

I feel like this is fulfilling some sort of teenaged-Garrett fantasy.  

The dashing hero, getting _armored up_ by his elven companion, on the dawn of the final battle!

Jeez, that sounds like Varric’s crappy friendfiction.

Fenris fastens the chest piece together.

We put everything on pretty fast. He fastens the piece of hip armor (Bethany lovingly refers to it as the “butt pad”; I share that with Fenris, and he laughs), then helps me get my various belts strapped on.

I set up the dangly, loincloth-esque piece of chainmail by myself… I’m determined to remain in possession of _some_ dignity.

Then I put on my boots… He helps with the boot covers, avoiding getting his eyes poked out by the knee things. Knee pads? I have no idea what they are.

They are sharp and I love them.

...I _better_ love them. I’m about to _willingly_ walk around with them on for hours.

We fasten my pauldrons, too, and then put my gauntlets on.

Fenris steps back and inspects me. He looks me up and down.

“It’s missing something,” he says.

“No! What’s it missing?!” I look down at myself. I’m panicking! Did I leave something at home? “Is this because I left the helmet out?!”

That’s not my fault! Blame the rest of Wicked Grace –

“No. The armor is _perfect_. I mean that. You’re a talented man, Hawke. I just…” Fenris’ brow furrows. “Something is missing. Something to make this… You.”

“I’ll put the paint swipe on my nose, too,” I say. “Isabela has the makeup in her room.”

Fenris looks around the room. I guess the paint swipe isn’t _Hawke_ enough. “Ah.”

He turns back to our bed and picks up the piece of red cloth that I packed.

“This will do,” he says.

“For what?”

“Hold on.” Fenris puts the cloth around my shoulders. He pushes it into the leather buckles that I have on my pauldrons.

He stands back and looks me up and down again. “Hmm…” He reaches out and adjusts the front of it.

I can’t look at him. I’m so flustered and I don’t think I’m doing a good job at hiding it.

It just feels like he’s tying a necktie for me, or something. This whole process feels so _domestic_.

Granted, ever since Fenris and I met in-person, I’ve felt like that.

It’s as if this weird _familiarity_ woke up between us.

“There,” Fenris breathes. “ _Now_ you’re ready.”

There’s a knot in my throat.

I go over to the mirror.

My armor fits fine. It’s clunky, but that’s to be expected… It looks great! The paint job worked out… The Hawke family doesn’t mess around when it comes to creative endeavors.

I touch the red cloth that’s draped over my chest. It really suits the costume… It gives the whole thing a very _Hawke_ vibe.

“Red’s my favorite colour,” I say, because I have no filter.

“I figured,” Fenris says.

I laugh. “How’d you know?”

He smiles. “Let’s call it intuition.”

That makes my chest flutter. Damn. Change the subject, Garrett! “You, uh, you’re going to put on your chest piece too, right?”

“Yes.”

“I can help!”

“No, that’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fenris grabs the chest piece from the table and positions it over his chest, then buckles the back of it…

He wasn’t kidding - he didn’t need my help at all.

“You can help with the gauntlets, though,” he says, quietly.

“Sure!” I hobble over to him – I’m not completely used to walking around in this costume – and _attempt_ to help him put his gauntlets on. Mine make it a little bit difficult to use my hands, but we manage. His are a lot spiker…

“The woes of being a warrior, huh?” I grin.

“It’s worth it,” Fenris replies.

He’s ready. I am, too – I just need Isabela to smear red paint on my nose.

I go through a mental checklist.

We have extra stuff packed in the truck.

I’m pretty sure that Aveline wants to drive us over there. I have no idea where Carver is… I need to text him.

My phone is in my pocket, which is accessible, though with _great_ difficulty. I’ll deal with that in the Rogue Room. My wallet’s in my other pocket…

Fenris clears his throat, successfully pulling me out of my inner monologue.

“Hawke. I… have to tell you something.”

Huh?

That… Doesn’t sound good.

“It’s nothing bad,” he adds, quickly.

Can Fenris read my mind?!

“It’s okay,” I say. “What’s up?”

“On our way over here…” He sighs. “I thought, um…”

He’s weirdly fidgety, too.

“Did you see someone?” I remember the rest stop incident. I had a headache but it still stuck with me.

He frowns. “I don’t know for certain.”

What? “Was it your ex?”

“No. No, it wasn’t.” He shakes his head. “It’s just… Someone. I doubt it’s an issue.”

“Oh, okay.” That’s a relief, I suppose.

“Still, if anyone asks for me, tell me.” He walks back over to his suitcase, picking up his sword. It’s bigger than mine! Dammit, Fenris.

“Sure, I can do that,” I say. “No problem!”

It’d be best not to pry.

I don’t think Fenris responds well to… _Prying_.

Fenris smiles. “Thank you, Hawke. Are you ready to leave?”

I babble something about my sword, grabbing it from on top of the bed… Then I fix my hair a little as Fenris mills around the room, putting stuff away.  

I’m not going to pry, but… I do wonder who he saw.

We walk out into the hallway together, and it feels weird. I guess it’s just because we’re in costume, but a part of me really does feel like we’re in the MMO.

It’s that strange familiarity.

The first thing I thought when I saw Fenris – MMO-Fenris – was… _He’s an elf_.

Right now, Fenris really _is_ that elf. 

He’s _literally_ the random elf in Hightown – armor and all.

He’s the elf who Merrill waved at, the elf who Isabela heckled. The elf who Anders was vehemently opposed to, the elf who Varric actively wrote friendfiction about… The elf who Aveline praised for his combat ability. The elf who inspired Sebastian to leave Chant of Light for Wicked Grace.

The elf who started this whole _Operation_. The elf who ended up being so prominent in my life.

Who would’ve thought?

Like I said, it’s weird, but not in a bad way.

I close the door behind me, and we set off for the Rogue Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's significantly longer than they usually are (though you may have worked that out by now). i think '20' is a milestone number, so a big update was in order.  
> it's also my birthday, so... i'm really happy that i got it posted in time for that, haha! 
> 
> ANYWAY: huge thanks to mary aka snoot for being the best beta AND for visiting me IN-PERSON recently. we planned this chapter in the same room together. isn't that incredible?!


	21. Chapter 21

“Isabela, where are your pants?!”

Fenris and I are standing outside of the Rogue Room - right in front of its door. We’re listening to a very important, _loud_ discussion going on inside of said room.

“Since when do I wear pants, Vallen?”

“That wasn’t even a little bit funny.”

“Shut up, I’m hilarious and it was _very_ funny.”

“Am I wearing pants?” A different, concerned voice squeaks. “Is this material too thin to be pants?”

“Daisy. Sweetness. Listen: If you don’t want it to qualify as pants, then it’s not pants.”

“Good!” Merrill… “Then I think I’ll say that they’re not pants!”

“Excellent!” Isabela’s logic strikes once again. I can hear Bethany guffawing… They’re so rowdy.

I glance over at Fenris. “Should we go in?”

“I don’t know, should we?” He smirks back at me.

I stifle a laugh. “I think we should.”

“Do you think that they’ve noticed?” Fenris asks. “That we’re not there, I mean.”

“They’ll notice when they want something from us,” I say.

But… That’s a lie.

Knowing Wicked Grace, everyone must be hyper-aware of our absence.

In fact, Varric likely has several volumes of friend-fiction waiting for my perusal.

At least they’re not gossiping about the actual Operation right now. That would be awkward. Like I said, they’re being loud.

“Hm. Very true,” Fenris replies, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I need to stop thinking about the Operation when I’m around Fenris! “When they want… Croissants… Or juice boxes… They’ll be painfully aware… That we’re, uh. Not around.” I knock the door a few times – before Fenris realizes that I’m trying to cover up their matchmaking endeavors.

“That better be you, Kitten!” Isabela yells.

“It is!” What would she do if it wasn’t?! “Fenris is with me, too.”

“Finally!”

“Well, sorry! I was _only_ putting on two million layers of armor!” I retort.

The corner of Fenris’ mouth quirks. “Two million?”

“Two million!” I repeat.

“Coming, Garrett,” Sebastian calls out, ignoring my whining.

He opens the door, and, holy shit.

Fenris was right. Sebastian’s costume _is_ impressive. It’s an exact replica of the Holy Armor that his character wears, from the shiny white-and-gold breastplate to the Andraste belt buckle. A silver, scaled tunic is under the breastplate, lined with leather…

It’s all meticulously detailed and of _incredible_ quality.

I guess I’m staring a bit too much, because Sebastian clears his throat and awkwardly steps to the side, as if he’s making more space for me to walk inside.

“Sebastian!” I get that he’s embarrassed, but I _need_ to praise him. “You look so _good_! You’re, like, your character’s twin, or something!” His hair’s slicked back and his blue eyes are even brighter than usual. This is incredible. No wonder Nathaniel was so star-struck last night.

“Yes,” Fenris says. “It’s _Exiled Prince_ in the flesh.”

 “Thank you.” He chuckles a little sheepishly, but he’s smiling, so… That’s a good thing, right? “Your costumes are also wonderful.”

“Let me see them!” Isabela calls out. “Hurry your asses up!”

“Fine, fine.” We make our way inside of the room. Isabela’s sitting on one of the beds and she squeals when she sees us.

“Kitten!” She covers her mouth with her hands, squealing some more. “You look so hot! Hot and _spiky_!”

“I’m definitely spiky.” I grin.

“And Fenris!” Isabela points at him accusatorily. “You’re also hot and spiky.”

Fenris smirks. “Thanks.”

“You two are such a good match.” She sighs wistfully.

A good match?

_A good match?!_

“It offends me,” Anders adds, clearly sarcastic. He’s leaning against the wall - his staff is propped up next to him.

“Anyway, enough of that! Look at _me_!” Isabela hops up from the bed and puts her hands on her hips, striking a sultry pose.

I…

A good match.

I hope Fenris isn’t looking at me. I’m definitely making some sort of weird Garrett-esque expression involving a loose jaw and eyebrows that are raised way too high.

“You decided against the pants. Smart.” Fenris doesn’t even react to their… Commentary.

Relief _washes_ over me.

Crushes are exhausting.

These close calls aren’t helping.

“It’s not too late to ditch _your_ pants, Fenny,” Isabela coos.

How can she go from making suggestive Operation comments to flirting with Fenris, herself?!  Then again, Isabela flirts with everyone.

I glance at Bethany. She’s sitting on the other bed, red in the face and giggling.

I need to ask her questions. A _lot_ of questions.

“To be fair, her character barely ever wears pants,” Anders says.

“That’s true,” Fenris replies. “My character does, however. So I’ll keep mine on.”

I’m getting a few poorly-timed mental images right now.

Dammit, Isabela! She’s hell-spawn.

I frown at her and she pouts. “What’s that frown for, Kitten? Don’t I look _good_?”

“Of course you do.” While Isabela is most definitely hell-spawn, she _does_ look good.

She’s wearing a low-cut, white tunic that laces up in the front. Instead of pants, she’s has bikini bottoms on.  She’s also wearing the elaborate accessories that her character usually wears… and leather. _Lots_ of leather. Leather gloves, leather armor, leather thigh-high boots…  On top of that, matching leather belts are attached to all of the leather pieces. I can’t see those having any function beyond looking _really_ fucking cool.

“How long did those take to buckle?!” There’s at least a dozen!

“Forever, no thanks to either of you!” Isabela walks across the room, over to Aveline. “The ladies helped me out. Big-time.” She drapes an arm around Aveline.

“Helped you?” Aveline rolls her eyes. “We _did_ them for you, wench.”

“I’m _so_ very grateful!” Isabela bats her eyelashes.

“You’re welcome, Isabela!” Merrill clasps her hands together. She’s sitting next to Bethany. “Ooh, you all look so _fantastic_! Garrett, your hard work paid off!”

“Thanks, Merrill,” I say. “You look great, too.” She has her elf ears on, now… The little smiley face that Isabela drew for her is still on her cheek.

“And we have _another_ elf! That’s the best part! I’m not the only one with these.” Merrill touches her pointed ears lightly. “I wear them quite often, so it doesn’t feel _too_ strange. What about you, Fenris?”

“It’s my first time doing something like this,” he replies. “So…”

Merrill gapes. “Your first time?! You mean, you don’t even wear them around the house?”

“I…” Fenris is visibly puzzled. “No. No, I don’t.”

I’m not sure if he’s wondering why Merrill wears elf ears around her house, or if he’s wondering why _he_ doesn’t. Probably the latter, since we’re all used to who Merrill is as a person.

The elf ears suit her, though. She’s adorable. Sometimes I forget that her character’s a part of the goriest class in the damn game.

For example, she sometimes absorbs my HP. Completely without warning! I’ll be fighting, and suddenly… Dead.

Dead because Merrill has a passive ability running, effectively draining HP out of _everyone in the party_.

Then Merrill gets the boss kill and we all love her too much to chastise her.

“You should try it,” Merrill says, sagely. “It’s quite fun.”

For a second, I think that she’s reading my mind and trying to get me to become a Blood Mage, which, in terms of game lore, is totally a thing that a Blood Mage would do.

But she’s just talking about the elf ears.

I can’t believe this.

“Where’s Varric?” I ask, because Blood Magic is a little scary.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Sebastian says.

“Fixing up his chest hair,” Isabela adds.

“His chest hair?” Fenris asks.

Isabela puffs her chest out. “That’s right! Fenris hasn’t seen Varric’s _magnificent_ chest hair.”

“It’s okay,” Aveline says.

Isabela glares at her. “It’s magnificent and you know it.”

Aveline sighs. “…Fine. It’s magnificent.”

“I’ve never seen it, either,” Bethany cuts in.

“You and Fenris are in for one hell of a treat,” Isabela prattles.

Aveline grunts.

My phone vibrates. I can feel it in my pocket.

I try to grab onto it, but…

Dammit. These gauntlets are incredibly impractical.

“Do you need some help, Garrett?” Merrill asks.

“No, I, uh…” I sigh. “Never mind. I’d love that.”

Merrill gets off the bed and walks over to me, grabbing my phone easily.

I envy her gauntlet-less lifestyle.

“See, Garrett? Should’ve been a mage,” Anders teases.

“Shut up!” I’m a Warrior and proud of it, gauntlets and all!

Anyway, I have a text…

 

 **Garrett**  (6:09pm):  
WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CHEESY?  
STOP DROPPING ONE-LINERS

 

Crap, that’s the one I sent Isabela last night. I touched the wrong message… This costume is severely compromising my dexterity.

I’m still proud of the gauntlets. Nothing will discourage me.

I carefully touch the _new_ message…

 

 **Mom** (9:32am):  
Hi Garrett it’s Mom how are you doing ?Bethany and Carver have not called or replied to my txts but I am not too worried because I know htat their big brother is looking after them. Please let me know if anything comes up though I hope you are all having a BLAST!!!!! Miles and I are having a good time back home But I still miss you all and am sending lvoe!  P.S . Best of Luck with Fenris he is SUCH a looker!  LOL! Love From Mom

  
  
I _know_ that Mom’s going to pester me about all the Fenris situations I get myself into this weekend.

But this is still cute. She barely ever texts; she actually just learned how to a few months ago...

“Who is that, Garrett?” Isabela calls out. “Zev?”

“No, it’s just my Mother. Checking in on us.” Mostly the twins… But still.

“Shit!” Bethany screams.

“Language, Bethany,” I say, automatically.

Just about everyone in the room gives me a very dirty look.

Even Merrill.

“Sorry! It’s a reflex!” I laugh, shaking my head. “What is it?”

“I forgot to call her when we got to Merrill’s house!” Bethany pulls her phone out of a brown pouch that’s attached to her belt… The pouch seamlessly fits in with her costume. She’s so meticulous. “She asked me to. She’s gonna kill me! No wonder she texted you!”

“She’s not mad,” I say. “It’s fine. She just told me to look after you. Carver, too.”

Bethany frowns. “I still feel bad…”

“If she was mad, she’d fill up your voicemail,” I point out, because she’s done it before.

“Mother Hawke is an inspiration to us all,” Isabela says.

“While that’s sweet, I’m kind of questioning the faith she puts in you,” Anders says. “Considering the fact that we haven’t seen Carver in at least 12 hours, and all.” 

…

“Shit! I need to find Carver!”

“Language, Garrett,” Bethany says, with a devious little smile. Isabela roars with laughter.

“Shut up!” I deserved that, though. “I-I have to… Oh my god, I have to –“

“Deep breaths, Hawke.” Fenris! Fenris can’t see me freaking out over potentially losing my younger brother. I need to compose myself. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He’s a grown man, after all,” Sebastian says, all politely.

He’s so innocent. So unknowing.

“Once, when Carver was about 12, we went to some lady’s wedding. We left Carver alone for five minutes,” I say. “We totally lost him. We found him an hour later, under a table, with an entire plate of appetizers.”

“…Oh…” Sebastian nods, slowly. “I see.”

“The plate was mostly empty, too,” Bethany adds.

“Oh dear.”

“Pretty much.” I go through my Contacts list. “Sorry guys, I’ll just step out and call him real quick…” Like I said before, Carver Hawke is the World’s Worst Texter. He replies to messages _weeks_ late. It’s a gift.

I shuffle out of the room, back into the hallway. As I close the door behind me, I hear Merrill wondering aloud if Carver is dead.

If Carver’s dead, my Mom will _literally_ disown me.

Hell, I’ll disown myself.

…I’m sure he’s with Alistair.

I don’t know Alistair that well, though. I just know that he works at Duncan’s and can do impressions. He also talks a lot about cheese.

I can respect that. Kind of.

It doesn’t really help in terms of reliability.

Anyway, I call Carver.

The line rings six times.

_Carver, for fuck’s sake…_

“What?”

“Wow! Nice greeting, Carver!” I’m relieved that he’s still among the living, but I won’t tell him that. He’ll _mock_ me. “Where are you?”

I can hear someone hollering in the background. It’s probably Alistair.

“Shut up, Alistair!” Carver yells. Yup, I called it. “I’m getting ready here.”

“Here?”

“In Alistair’s room, smartass.”

“I’m not being a sma- Wait, did you take your stuff over to Alistair’s room?!”

“I told you. I’m staying over here.” Oops, I forgot. “How drunk did you get last night?”  

“I didn’t get drunk! I never get drunk.”

“Whatever. I’ll meet you there.”

“There?”

“At the Convention Center. Bye.”

“Carver, wait –“

He hung up on me.

“Thanks for that,” I say, sarcastically, to the dial tone.

 

 **Garrett** (9:38am):  
THANKS FOR THAT

  
Carver might not ever see this message, but it makes me feel better.

“See?! Magnificent!” I can hear Isabela screaming from the hallway…

I guess that means Varric’s ready.

And, thus, the chest hair has been unleashed upon the world.

I head back into the Rogue Room.

Sure enough, Varric’s standing in the middle of it. He’s wearing his costume – an effortlessly fancy, brown leather jacket pulled over a red tunic with intricate gold details. His gloves are made of the same dark brown leather material, and they look way more comfortable than my gauntlets.

I’m a little envious.

But, anyway… He’s wearing navy pants and stylish black boots, too. A dark blue belt with another gold pattern is wrapped around his waist. A crossbow prop is attached to his back… It looks exactly like Bianca… And he has fancy, plain gold earrings, along with his character’s gold necklace.

He looks dashing. Too dashing.

“Hawke! What’s the story with Junior?” He turns to me. “Is he, you know, alive?”

“He’s alive!” I squeak. “He hung up on me. It was rude.”

“Carver’s always rude,” Bethany says.

“Yes, yes, Carver’s alive and rude, that’s good. This is more important.” Isabela points at Varric. “Look! The chest hair’s out!”

Varric’s chest hair is, indeed, out. The red tunic is low-cut and…

The chest hair is out and magnificent.

I don’t want to look at it for too long because it makes me feel insecure about my _own_ chest hair.

That’s how magnificent it is. It wounds my ego.

At least I have my beard…

“Rivaini.” Varric turns to Isabela. ”Stop looking at my chest. My eyes are up here.”

“But the _chest hair_ ,” Isabela whines.

“Do you know how much I suffer under your gaze?” Varric sighs dramatically.  

Isabela pouts, and he grins. All _wickedly_. “Just shitting you.”

“I’ll forgive you if you let me touch it later,” Isabela says.

“Deal,” Varric replies.

Isabela looks very pleased.

“I want to touch it, too,” Merrill says.

“Naturally. The ladies just can’t resist it.” Varric…

“I can,” Aveline says.

“Red is the outlier,” Varric states, and Isabela laughs.

“Varric, I’ve been meaning to ask this,” Fenris says. “But I thought all dwarves had beards. Where’s yours?”

Fenris, no! In Wicked Grace, beards are _my_ gimmick.

“I misplaced it,” Varric says, smirking. Anders grumbles something about lore under his breath.

“Ah. I thought maybe it fell onto your chest,” Fenris says.

I laugh. _Really_ hard.

 _It fell on his chest_!

“Ha-ha,” Varric says, sarcastically – but he’s grinning. “Fenris, you’re spending too much time with Hawke. His terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on you -- amongst other things.”

“My sense of humor is _not_ terrible!” I protest.

“It is, but that’s okay.” Varric looks around the room. “Where’s the camera?”

“It’s over here!” Bethany picks up a camera – it was behind her, on the bed.

“Excellent.” Varric walks over there and Bethany hands it to him. “Well, gang… Is everyone ready?”

“No! I’m not!” I point at my nose. “Look.”

“I have the paint here, Kitten.” Isabela leaves Aveline’s side and walks over to an open makeup bag on the table. She takes out a small pot of red face paint. “Damn. Does this mean I have to take off my gloves?”

“Don’t you dare complain about your gloves, Isabela,” I say, wiggling my gauntlet-clad fingers.

“Fine, fine.” She takes off her gloves.

I walk over to her and bend my knees a little, stooping so I’m around her height. She dips two of her fingers into the face paint.

Anders says something about the merchandise on sale at the Convention – everyone else is talking, but I’m not listening. Isabela doesn’t look like she is, either.

She takes her fingers out of the face paint and slowly drags them across my nose bridge. 

I look past her, into the mirror that’s up on the wall behind her.

And now?

Now I’m not the lanky carpenter, Garrett Hawke, in all his fumbling glory.

No, now I’m the Champion of Kirkwall.

“You’ve got this, Tiger,” Isabela says, under her breath.

And I grin.

 

~

 

The ride over to the Convention Center was short and mostly uneventful.

 _Mostly_.

We had to skillfully adjust all of our props so that they’d fit in the truck without snapping.

I went into slight hysterics over potentially shattering my costume before getting there.

Anders heckled a random Templar, who was just making his way to the Convention.

Aveline, the designated driver (since my costume made me a liability), then gave us all a lecture about Convention Etiquette. A few weeks ago, she also emailed us a document that outlined the importance of said Convention Etiquette.

I skimmed it.

Anyway… Like I said, the drive was mostly uneventful. Everything worked out.

Now we’re at the Convention Center, and it’s huge. I suppose that’s to be expected, though. It has lots of glass windows in the main hall, so everything is all _bright_.

We exchange our tickets for passes. Isabela and Anders complain about how _legal_ the whole thing is, but we all just ignore them.

It’s finally Convention time.

“The Dealers’ room!” Isabela announces. “I’m going there. Right now. Come on, Sunshine.”

“Okay! Um...” Bethany turns to me. “Garrett, are you looking out for Carver?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” I say. I need to see him in his Templar armor. It’ll be the funniest thing.

Anders is going to throw a _fit_.

“Cool. Bye!” Bethany gets swept away by Isabela.

“I’ll go with them,” Aveline says. “Going to make sure Isabela doesn’t do anything _too_ unsavory.”

“Good plan,” I reply. Aveline gives me a light pat on the back and walks off, avoiding collision with an assortment of people in long, flowing robes. They’re also heading to the Dealers’ room, I guess.

“Are those Circle mages?” Anders grabs onto my arm. “Those are Circle mages. Oh my god. I need a photo of them right now.”

“Go take a photo of them, then,” I say. Anders scurries off. I can tell that he’s super excited because he didn’t even have a witty retort to what I said.

“I’ll take some, too!” Merrill pulls a camera out of a pouch attached to her belt. “Varric let me borrow this so I could take some!” She follows Anders over to the mage group.

Meanwhile, Varric’s already fraternizing with a member of the Convention staff (he always does this). And… Fenris is next to me. He’s holding his sword and looking towards… Something.

I follow his gaze and… Sebastian’s surrounded by people.

 _Already_?!

“Exiled Prince, look this way!” One girl dressed in a metal bikini hollers. She’s trying to take a photo of him.

“Now, look this way!”

“I can’t believe you’re here, Prince!”

Sebastian’s not even posing yet (he’s trying his best), but he’s smiling and being a good sport. I can’t hear what he’s saying over everyone else’s fawning.

“Are you kidding me?” I can’t believe this! Fenris laughs.

“I told you that he’s popular,” he says. “He’s even more popular since he left Chant of Light.”

Huh. I guess Sebastian’s an internet sensation. Who’d have thought?

“Everyone loves a rebel.” Varric’s back. “There are blog posts out there, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call Sebastian a _rebel_.” He’s, like, one of the least-rebellious people I know.

That being said, the role that he’s played in the Operation can’t be overlooked…

“Eh. Leaving the Chant made him enough of one.” Varric detaches Bianca and examines it… Um, I mean, _her._ He examines _her_.

He did an incredible job at replicating Bianca. She looks exactly like she does in-game… Possibly even better.

“That Bianca replica is amazing, Varric,” I say, because I don’t think I voiced that before…

Varric looks up at me. “Replica?”

…

“Mr. Tethras?” The same Convention staff member calls out to Varric… Another member of staff is with him.

“Ah, right. Excuse me, gentlemen!” Varric grins at Fenris and I while reattaching Bianca.

I’m confused. Very confused.

Fenris shrugs.

“One sec. Hawke? About that _thing_ …” Varric pulls me aside, I guess so Fenris can’t hear us. “Good job keeping your cool.”

“Thanks!” I say. I’ve become increasingly better at restraining my Fenris-related _emotions._ Almost everything that happens is internal, now. 

“Yeah, especially with that whole shield thing,” Varric says. “When I saw it, I thought you’d fly off the handle.”

I blink a few times. “Shield thing? What shield thing?”

“…You didn’t notice the shield? _Seriously_ , Hawke?” Varric shakes his head. “Consider my compliment redacted.”

“Seriously, what shield?” Aveline’s the only one who uses a shield. She took it with her, too.

Varric sighs. “Hawke. Don’t freak out.”

“I won’t freak out.”

“Right,” Varric says. “Well, Fenris has a shield on him. It’s hooked onto his belt.”

What? “Fenris uses a two-handed sword, though. I saw it.”

“Not like that,” Varric says. “Look, your truck has a design on it, right?”

“It’s my Dad’s truck,” I say. “It has the family crest on it.”

“Yeah, see? Fenris has a _decorative_ shield with the same design. It’s on his belt.”

I’m still confused. “Where did – oh.”

 _Oh_.

“That’s what I was referring to, Hawke. Now… Keep it together!” Varric smirks and goes over to the Convention staff members, who’re still waiting for him.

Fenris… Did he…?

I turn back around… Slowly. Fenris is still looking at Sebastian. The group surrounding Sebastian got significantly more rowdy.

At least his bow is finally out. He can actually pose for photos.

I can’t see the other side of Fenris from this angle. So I kind of… Shuffle around, and…

“Hi, excuse me!”

My sly shuffling is interrupted by a girl with Legion of the Dead markings on her face. She’s in full Legion armor… It matches the axe latched onto her back.

I may not be an expert on Dwarven lore, but it’s still cool to see it being appreciated.

“You two look amazing!” She says. “Can I get a photo?”

“Sure,” Fenris says. He moves his sword off his shoulder and turns towards me and oh my gosh he totally is wearing the shield prop.

When did he put that on?! _Why_ did he put that on?!

“Yeah! Sure!” I hold up my own sword and try to look like I’m not screaming internally.

The Legion of the Dead girl takes the photo.

“Thanks!” She says. “You two look great!”

I kind of want that photo. Is it weird to ask people for the photos that they take of you?

Wait. Was that the first photo of me with Fenris? Our first photo?!

“Uh, wait –!” I want a copy of that! But she’s already speed-walking off, back towards her Legion of the Dead group.

“It feels strange, having photos taken of me,” Fenris says.

“I… Yeah. I’d like photos of us, though.” My voice is even. Very even. Not squeaky at all. It’s not doing the… High-pitched thing.

This is progress.

There’s no high-pitched voice thing, despite the fact that Fenris is wearing the shield with the Hawke family crest on it.

This is even more impressive since it’s _also_ despite the fact that some stranger in this world has the first photo of Fenris and me… Together.

Unless that one screenshot counts.

That one that Isabela took, I mean.

Does that count? I don’t think it counts.

“So. Anyway. Um. You’re wearing the thing.” Crap, I need to elaborate more. “The shield.”  

“Hm?” Fenris blinks up at me.

“The…” I gesture to the shield that’s hooked onto his belt.

The one I made as an afterthought. Just for fun. I brought it to the Convention for _luck_.

I can’t tell if I’m _lucky_ to be experiencing this right now.

“Ah. Yeah. Should I take it off?” Fenris reaches for it and I’m already babbling protests.

“No! No, it’s fine. I just… If I knew you were going to wear it, I would’ve done something else with it!” I would’ve put some more care into it. The paint is _flaking off_ in some areas, and it’s the _Hawke_ crest, this is like some cheap marketing scheme –

“It’s fine. It looks good.” Fenris looks down at the shield and away from me. “I… Put it on before we left the room. I thought you knew.”

“I tend to space out.” That should be common knowledge, at this point.  

“Hm. Well.” Fenris clears his throat. “I just thought it would be a shame to leave it behind. Is that… Strange?”

Taking a random prop that I had in my suitcase, behind my back, without saying a word?

Incorporating said prop into his costume – once again, behind my back and without saying a word?

It’s a little strange.

It’s a little awkward, too.

But… It’s also flattering.

Hell, I’m a little strange and awkward, myself. Knowing that Fenris is, too?

It’s nice.

“No way, it’s not strange at all,” I say, because the niceness outweighs the strangeness.

I’m keeping it together, so that’s also very nice. A lot of things are very _nice_ right now.

I just… Don’t want to _not_ keep it together. I don’t want the niceness to dissipate into some sort of awkward confession that goes terribly for both of us.

I _know_ that I’m overthinking this whole shield situation and I definitely don’t want to give into the luxury of false hope. I have a lot of experience with false hope. I’m not looking for more.

I need to distract myself.

I need to… Walk.

“I’m going for a walk,” I say.

Fenris raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

I nod a few times. And then I go for a walk.

I don’t head for the Dealers’ room. I’m not mentally prepared for that just yet.

Instead, I’m just going to meander around the main hall, I think.

I can feel people staring at me. I’m genuinely not paying any attention to my surroundings, but I glance over some people in their costumes.

There’s a _lot_ of mages.

Why does Anders act like there’s a shortage of mages? They’re everywhere.

A desire demon is posing provocatively against a window and a ton of people are snapping photos.

I’m glad that Isabela isn’t here. I feel like I say that a lot. I guess there’s just a lot of potential for chaos whenever Isabela's around – especially when provocative posing is involved.

I hope that Bethany’s okay. Aveline, too.

I catch sight of the bathroom. Washing my face sounds like a good plan, except my gauntlets would get in the way. I’d also mess up the red paint on my noseand get my beard soaked.

Basically, it’d be a total disaster.

Also, I hate Convention bathrooms. They _always_ smell like puke and broken dreams.

There’s a vending machine propped up on the wall across from the bathroom, though.

I left all of the chips in the hotel room… That was an oversight.

I should’ve known that I’d need chips at the Convention. As much as I love my costume, it’s impractical. I don’t have a pouch or anything…

I can’t believe I made a _family crest shield_ , but not a _pouch_ …

That reminds me: Fenris took the shield.

He’ll probably give it back later.

But he still took it forhis costume. _Today_.  He’s wearing it _right now_.

I’m grinning goofily. I know I am because a Qunari is giving me a questioning look. He’s very muscular. His hair is white and long, and his horns are eerily well-made. Red body paint is all over his (exposed) torso and face.

…

I really hope that he’s not a member of that one hardcore guild… The hardcore guild that Wicked Grace got into some drama with.

Nehraa Whatever.  Q-something.

Nehraa Qun?

Shit. If he is, I’m screwed. I’m literally wearing the Mantle that we got from them!

Okay, no. If he approaches me, I can pretend that I just liked the design.

_I don’t actually have it in-game! I just found it online! I’m not even in a guild! What’s a Wicked Grace?_

…Or I can just run away.

Yeah, running away sounds good.

I speed-walk over to the vending machine. I guess I _am_ going to buy some chips. It’s fate!

I pull my wallet out of my pocket and press the button for the chips (salt and vinegar-flavored). Then, I put the money into the machine, making sure to _not_ turn around. I don’t know if the Qunari is still standing where he was, but… No risks. Not yet.

Is this how it feels to be popular? Avoiding people at Conventions, out of fear that they might _brawl_ with you?

I feel cheated. I’m not even popular! I haven’t even hit level 50 yet.

Anyway, the vending machine pushes the chips down from their slot.

I lean down (which sounds a _lot_ easier than it actually is, since I’m in this armor) and stick my hand in the little dispenser… Effectively misjudging its size and getting my gauntlet stuck in there.

 _Fuck_.

I try to pull my hand out, but it’s lodged in.

I shake it around. Wiggle my fingers.

This _would_ happen to me.

I turn my head, expecting to see the Qunari staring at me – possibly approaching me.

But, no. He’s gone.

Instead, a Darkspawn is standing close by. A Hurlock, to be specific.

It looks so realistic that I almost scream. Instead, I just kind of squeak.

It’s staring at me, too. Judging me.

I left Miles at home to avoid non-human creatures’ judgement.

I can’t believe this.

Being judged by a Hurlock while stuck in a vending machine… I never thought this day would come. I thought I was better than this.

“Are you the Champion?”

I look away from the Hurlock. There’s a girl in bright pink, fluffy bard gear, standing right next to me.

“Um…” My gauntlet is still firmly lodged in the vending machine. “…Yes?”

“Cool,” she says. She stares at me in silence for a while, then just leaves.

Can the Earth swallow me now?

Is that a thing that can happen?

Can I retreat into a deep, dark cave?

“Garrett? Are you buying a snack?” Merrill! Merrill’s here!

“Merrill!”

“Hi!” She waves. “If you wanted a snack, you should’ve just asked me for one. I have some beef jerky in my pouch.”

“Sorry. Everything happened so fast,” I say. “There was the shield… Then the Qunari. So I went to the vending machine, and a Hurlock judged me, and –”

“You’re stuck down there!” She just realized it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I am. I’m very… Stuck.”

“Let’s get you out, then,” Merrill says. “Wait! Memories!” She points Varric’s camera at me, snapping a quick picture before I can protest.

“No! Delete it!” I wail.

“Garrett!” Merrill pouts and puts her hands on her waist. “You shouldn’t delete memories! They’re very precious, you know.”

So, some random stranger has the first photo of Fenris and me, together…  Meanwhile, Wicked Grace has a photo of my hand stuck in a vending machine.

“Here,” Merrill puts the camera back in her pouch, then reaches down, holding onto my arm. “On the count of three, let’s give your arm a good pull!”

“Merrill, if this breaks my gauntlet, I’ll start crying,” I say. I’m twenty-seven years old and, yes, I will cry if my gauntlet breaks while removing my hand from a vending machine. “Do you know how long it took me to get the fingers right?!”

 “Don’t be silly! It probably won’t break,” Merrill says.

“What do you mean, ‘probably’?!”

“I’ve always wanted to do this!” She ignores me. “One… Two… Three… Pull!”

We both pull my arm back. The gauntlet scrapes against the metal opening of the vending machine, and the sound makes my blood crawl.

Then… It’s free. My hand’s free of its vending machine prison.

The chip bag falls to the floor.

“How did that actually work?” I ask, examining my gauntlet. It has a scratch, but, by some miracle, it’s barely noticeable. I’ll have to paint over it later. I grab the chip bag and straighten my back.

“I’m strong!” Merrill says, flexing an arm.

This serves as more proof that Merrill’s a blood mage in real life.

I can’t believe that I’m actually considering the possibility of that, lately.

I stare down at my bag of chips. I don’t even want this, now.

Except… I do.

I tear it open and start cramming chips into my mouth.

“How are you doing?” Merrill asks. “You’re snacking. Did something happen?”

“A lot happened,” I say through all the chips. “Fenris is wearing my shield… And I think that one Qunari guild is tailing me.”

“Nehraa Qun?” Merrill tilts her head. “Where are they? I’d like to say hello! Are their costumes nice?”

“There was just one of them, and his costume was nice, yeah,” I say. “You… Shouldn’t say hello. For my health.”

“Why not? They’re our friends, aren’t they?” Merrill pouts. “The Arishok’s on my friends list!”

She added him?!

I sigh. “Merrill… Seriously?”

“Yes!” She grins. “But I won’t say hello if it makes you upset. That’s what friendship is all about.”

“Thanks, Merrill,” I say, handing her a chip.

“You’re welcome!” She pops the chip in her mouth. “And I saw your shield! It has those birds on it. Very pretty. It looks good on Fenris.”

“…Why is he wearing it, Merrill?” I’m despairing. “Why did he take it? Why would he –”

“I’m not sure,” Merrill says. “Maybe he’s hinting at something.”

I stare at her. Wide-eyed. “Like what?”

She shrugs. “Maybe… He enjoys your work?”

Right. That’s likely. Very likely. It’d be a waste to keep the shield locked up in the suitcase, so he just –

“Oh!” Merrill claps her hands together. “Or maybe he wants you to get the hint and kiss him!”

I almost choke on a chip. “What?!”

“I like the second one more, personally,” Merrill says.

“The first one is way more likely!” I retort.

“Hmm… I don’t think so,” Merrill says.

So, she thinks it’s more likely that Fenris wants to _kiss_ me, versus him just _complimenting_ my work?!

“Wait, are you insulting my craftsmanship?!”

“No! Your craftsmanship’s very nice, Garrett.” Merrill grins. “Anyway, let’s try not to think about it too much!” She grabs my arm. “We’re finally here, at the Convention! Let’s buy things and spend time together!”

“Fine,” I grumble as she starts walking back to the front entrance, pulling me along.

“Did you like that Legion of the Dead dwarf?” Merrill chatters as we walk. “She had an axe!”

I gasp. “Wait, Merrill - do you know her?! She took a photo of Fenris and me!”

Merrill nods. “Mhm. I saw. She took a photo of me, too.”

“Do you think we could find her?!” I really, really want the photo that she took!

“I think we could. She’s in a big group. Why?”

“I, uh…” Okay, I might want the photo, but voicing that is actually super embarrassing…

“Is it the photo? Do you want the photo she took of you two?” Merrill stops walking and just stares up at me.

“Well, yeah!” _So embarrassing_. My cheeks are burning.

“Garrett…”

Merrill, no! If _Merrill_ calls me pathetic, I don’t know what I’ll do, and –

“I took that photo, too!” She lets go of my arm and grabs the camera from her pouch.

…Oh.

“Neither of you were looking at me, though,” she continues. “I was also far away, and it’s a wee bit blurry, too. I think it’s still nice!”

“Merrill, I love you,” I say, very seriously. “Did you really take it?!”

“Yes!” She turns the camera back on and presses some buttons once the screen lights up. “Look, see?”

She hands me the camera and I look at the tiny screen.

It’s Fenris and I. We’re standing next to each other, and it _is_ a little blurry, but…

We’re next to each other and smiling.

The Legion of the Dead girl is in the photo, too. It’s a photo of her _taking_ the photo.

And, somehow…

Somehow, that makes it even better.

Not only because it actually _is_ the first photo of Fenris and I.

It just… makes me smile, for some reason. It’s such a _Convention_ picture.

“I need a copy of this,” I say.

“We’ll all get copies of it!” Merrill says. “And we’ll take even more! For example…” She points at the same desire demon, who’s _still_ posing for a crowd of Convention-goers. “I’m definitely going to take a photo of that person!”

“For Isabela?” I ask.

“For Isabela!” She confirms. “Come on!”

I laugh and shake my head as she drags me along.

 

~

 

Merrill takes several photos of the desire demon. Three of them involve me.

That’s all I’m going to say on _that_ matter.

I finish off the chips and throw the bag away while Merrill goes on a photo-taking frenzy.

I’m watching her take a selfie with a Dalish elf when my phone vibrates.

I pull it out of my pocket, without incident (proof that I’m getting used to these gauntlets) and check my texts…

 

 **Fenris** (10:41am):  
hey. carver’s here.  
are you w/ merrill?  
she went looking for you.

 

Shit, that’s right. I’m supposed to be waiting for Carver with him – not running off and goofing around with Merrill.

I already stuck Fenris with babysitting duty.

 

  
**Garrett** (10:41am):  
HEY! Yeah , with Merrikllk!

 **Garrett** (10:41am):  
Shit. sorry. Gauntlets making it hard 2 spell  
Anywya ,  we’ll be right there! Are u at the etnacne?  
***Entrance

  
**Fenris** (10:42am):  
lol. yes.  
if anders sees your brother, he’ll start yelling, and i won’t care enough to restrain him.  
so… hurry up, hawke.

 

He’s right. Anders will _definitely_ start yelling when he sees Carver.

Carver, in all his templar glory.

 I almost can’t wait.

Merrill waves to the elf, who waves back at her. I guess she got her selfie.

“Merrill, Carver’s here,” I tell her. “We should go back.”

“Sure!” Merrill replies, bouncing back to my side. We start making our way back to the Convention Center’s entrance. “Does Carver have a costume, Garrett?”

“Yeah, he does…” I don’t understand Carver. I can’t believe that he actually bought a costume.

Frankly, it’s against everything that Carver stands for.

I guess Bethany motivated him… Somehow.

I don’t understand.

I probably never will.

“What is he dressing up as?” Merrill asks. 

“A templar,” I reply. “I have no idea why. He doesn’t even play the MMO.”

“Templar armor is so spiky and shiny!” Merrill exclaims. “I’m glad that someone in our group is dressed as one, even if they’re kind of mean in the game! We’re so well-balanced!”

“Yeah. That’s…” I sigh. “Anders might kill him.”

“He won’t! Don’t worry!” Merrill attempts to reassure me.

It doesn’t work.

Merrill chatters more about how she likes the Templar armor, and how she’d like to find some spiky armor for her character, someday.

Eventually, I catch sight of Carver from down the main hall…

And…

He’s very shiny. Very spiky.

“There he is!” Merrill’s pointing at him from afar. “You were right, Garrett! He’s a templar!”

He’s definitely a templar. His armor is catching the light and it almost hurts to look directly at him.

He’s standing next to Fenris. They’re chatting.

I still can’t believe that he’s having actual _interactions_ with Fenris…

More importantly, this is proof that Carver is, in fact, still among the living.

“Merrill, can you pass me the camera?” I ask.

“Sure!” She grabs it from her pouch and gives it to me.

I turn the camera on, pointing it at him, and –

Carver looks right at me and scowls.

He says something, but I can’t hear him from where we are. It’s probably a threat of some sort.

 _Garrett, don’t you dare_!

I’m cackling as I press the shutter, and Carver’s storming over before I can even look at the photo preview.

“Garrett!” He tries to grab the camera from me, but he’s wearing gauntlets, too. So, instead, he kind of just flails at it.

Needless to say, I manage to keep the camera away from him.

“Looking good, Carver!” I say, and he’s bright red. Even his _ears_ are red.

“Shut up!” He snaps.

“Don’t bait your brother, Hawke.” Fenris walks over here, too. “I’m glad you found him, Merrill.”

“Yes! I found him!” Merrill’s all smiles. “He was trapped in a vending machine.”

“Merrill!” They don’t need to know that!

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Fenris says.

“It was a freak accident,” I say. “Anyway, Carver! You’re a templar!”

Carver grumbles something under his breath. He’s wearing a really bulky-looking chest piece over long red, gold and black robes. His silver pauldrons are jaggedly layered – they’re not as jagged as mine, but they’re definitely spiky. The insignia of the Templar Order is engraved on his breastplate – a shining sword. His gauntlets are held in place with leather straps.

“You look very nice, Carver!” Merrill says. “I was just telling Garrett - I’m so glad that one of us chose that armor!”

“It was nothing,” Carver mumbles, still impossibly red. He’s even worse than me with Fenris.

…Wait.

“Why are you so embarrassed, Carver?” Something about this is kind of suspicious. Carver never gets embarrassed, but he keeps blushing, lately.

“I’m not embarrassed!” Carver snaps. “Why are you going around getting caught in vending machines, anyway?!”

“Hey! That was the first time I’ve ever gotten caught in one!”

Fenris rolls his eyes, and Merrill giggles.

“Sure,” Carver says. “Anyway, Alistair went to the Dealers’ room, so I’m gonna head over there.”

“Sounds good,” Fenris says. “Everyone else went there, too.”

“You were waiting here alone, Fenris?” Merrill asks. “What about Sebastian?”

“He went in, too,” Fenris says. “He had to escape the mob.”

Shit, now I feel even worse for wandering off. Fenris had to just stand here, all alone…

It’s especially shitty, since he’s nervous that someone’s _following_ him.

“Then I guess we should go see them!” Merrill says. “Come on, everyone!”

She takes off towards the Dealers’ room. Carver follows her.

Fenris is about to leave, too, but I reach out and grab onto his shoulder. “Uh, Fenris?”

He looks up at me, questioning.

“Thanks,” I say. “For… Waiting. For Carver, I mean.”

“Of course,” Fenris says. “You were busy, after all. How _did_ you get stuck in a vending machine?”

“It’s a long story,” I say. “Believe me, it’s not that interesting. A Hurlock judged me. Also, I think Nehraa Qun is tailing me, so… Watch out, I guess.”

“Hm. Exciting,” he says.

“And it’s only the first day,” I say.

“Try to stay in once piece, Hawke,” he teases. Carver glances back at us and makes a face at me.

I know that face all too well. It’s the “stop-flirting-right-now” face.

It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, it makes me a little emotional.

“Come on,” Fenris says.

We walk, side-by-side, towards the Dealers’ room.

 

~

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing dressed like _that_?!”

We’re in the Dealers’ room, now. It’s really crowded. There’s booths with a bunch of things for sale. Shirts, art, merchandise… All sorts of cool stuff.

“I specifically vetoed against the templar armor!”

We ran into Anders pretty quickly, though.

We also had the decency to move our conversation to the sidelines… No one likes it when you talk with your friends in the middle of the Dealers’ room pathways. It’s a fact. Gotta keep the crowd flow going.

“You vetoed against it for _me_ , Anders,” I say. “Carver was beyond your influence.” Anders is taking the templar armor just as well as I thought he would.

“Quiet, Hawke!” He snaps. “I can’t believe this! A templar? _Seriously_? Why not just be a warden?”

“Like, a Grey warden?” Carver asks.

“No, you fool!” Anders shakes his staff around. “A _prison_ warden! A warden for a _prison_!”

“That wouldn’t fit with the fantasy theme, Anders,” Merrill says.

“I’m – Listen, I can’t be seen with a templar lover,” Anders says. “Do you _know_ what people will say?”

“Nothing,” Fenris says.

“You don’t know how the hardcore mages operate, Fenris,” Anders says. “This could ruin my reputation!”

Fenris just stares at him.

“Wow, no comeback?” I nudge his side.

“Another instance where it’d be too easy,” Fenris replies.

“Hilarious,” Anders says, sardonically. “I’m loving this comedy-duo act that you two have going on, lately.”

“Me too!” Merrill chirps.

“Just make an exception about your… Associations… This one time,” I say. “For the sake of the guild.”

Anders furrows his brow. “Fine, fine…”

“Can someone tell me why this actually matters?” Carver asks. “There are templars all over the damn place. I’m not the only one.”

Anders sighs. “Listen, Carver. As of Patch 2.1, the mage-templar debate has escalated to –”

“I don’t play your game,” Carver says. 

Anders’ face twists up. “Then why the _fuck_ did you choose this armor?!”

Carver shrugs. “Looks cool, and too many of my friends are Grey Wardens.”

“Speaking of Grey Wardens, we actually have to go find Amell’s table,” I cut in. “If you want to join us, Anders.”

“Ugh, I’ll meet up with you later,” he says. “I’m still recovering from the debate I had with that woman last night at the Hanged Man.”

Right. I vaguely remember that.

Lore. So much lore.

“I want to recklessly spend some money, anyway,” Anders continues. “Go on without me. I’ll catch up.”

“Alright, if you’re sure!” Merrill says. “Come on, they should be next to the Black Emporium store!”

Anders walks off, staff in tow, and vanishes almost as soon as he enters the _flood_ of people in the Dealers’ room.

“What’s with that guy?” Carver asks.

“He’s very passionate,” I say. “You get used to it.”

Fenris sighs. “Let’s just get to Amell’s booth. I’m not one for… Crowds.”

“It’ll be fun,” Merrill says. “Just look at all the costumes. Let’s go!”

She charges into it, and Carver wordlessly obliges.

“Weird. Carver hates crowds, too,” I say. “You’d think that he’d complain, or something.”

“You truly are dense, Garrett,” Fenris says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too.

I don’t know why.

Everyone’s always calling me _dense_.

But when Fenris does it, I just…

I don’t know. It’s hilarious.

He shrugs and smiles. We walk into the _sea_ of Convention-goers, together.

I pester him a bit more about Carver, but he just keeps grinning.

Anyway, we shuffle through the crowd, making our way across the room. I personally witness Fenris’ smile slowly fade into a grumpy scowl.

I can relate. I’m not a fan of crowds, either.

Someone in front of us stops to take a photo in the middle of the aisle, and, I swear, I can _literally_ see Fenris restrain his urge to throttle them.

Merrill’s been taking photos, too, but most are in-motion (and a large percentage of them are probably blurry, too, but that’s fine).

I thought Carver would be grumpier about it all, but he follows Merrill without complaint. She’s talking a lot, but it’s noisy, so I can’t hear what she’s saying… Carver’s nodding along, too.

After wandering for a good few minutes, I catch sight of an elaborately decorated booth. It’s silver and blue, with a huge sign that says “Game Staff.” It’s further back from the crowd.

“There it is!” Merrill hollers, pointing at it (she also almost whacks a rogue cosplayer in the face, but, luckily, doesn’t). “I see Amell!”

I see her, too. She’s wearing the same costume that Bethany has on, though hers has a cool, stylistically aged look to it.

She’s talking to another Grey Warden… Bethany! Holy shit!

“Bethany!” I yell, waving wildly.

Bethany looks over her shoulder and sees us, and she waves with Amell.

Merrill, Carver, Fenris and I finally make it over to the booth.

“Hi, guys!” Amell says. “I’m glad you made it here in one piece! All of you look great!”

“You do, too!” Merrill scampers around the booth. “Wow! Look at all of this _stuff_!” There’s tons of pamphlets about available job opportunities on Amell’s table, along with various knick-knacks. A laptop’s there, too – probably Amell’s.

“My shift ends in an hour. I’ve been here for two hours already,” Amell says. “I’ve had company, though! Those guys just went to get water!”

“Those guys?” I ask.

“Cousland, Zevran and Nathaniel,” Amell says. “I’m making them run errands for me!”

“They’re here, then… That’s good,” I say. I should’ve texted Zevran this morning… I totally forgot to.

It’s okay – it all worked out.

“You must be Carver!” Amell interrupts my train of thought. “The third Hawke sibling! Another cousin of mine! It’s _so_ nice to meet you!” She sticks her hand out and gives Carver a very spirited handshake. “I’m Amell! I like your costume! Templars aren’t so popular, lately.”

“Uh,” Carver blinks a few times. “You’re… Saying a lot of things.”

She’s also talking faster than she was last night.

I mean, I don’t remember much of last night, but I _do_ remember that much.

“Sorry, sorry,” Amell says. “Cousland brought this _huge_ bag of Duncan’s coffee beans for me. We brewed it and I haven’t been drinking anything else!” She laughs. “ _Such_ a good blend. I miss working there, sometimes.”

Holy fuck, she worked at Duncan’s?! She lived close to my house, then! That’s wacky.

“Our coffee is the _best_ ,” Bethany says.

“So true,” Amell says with a nod.

Bethany then gives Carver a mischievous look. "Carver, did you have trouble getting into your costume?” 

“No. Shut up,” Carver says. “Alistair helped me. Where is he, anyway?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Amell says. “Nathaniel mentioned that he was around, though. He might be in a panel.”

“I lost him as soon as I got here,” Carver says, sighing.

“That was Alistair?” Fenris asks. “He didn’t introduce himself. He yelled something about Mabari and sprinted away.”

“That sounds like him,” Amell says.

“I can relate to that,” I say.

“Gare! Gare!” I can hear Zevran yelling. I turn around and, sure enough, he’s here and holding a _ton_ of water bottles. “You are looking _so_ good!”

“You do, too!” I exclaim. Zevran’s in-costume, too – just like he promised. He’s wearing a (very short) leather tunic with a _bunch_ of belts layered over it. He’s also wearing simple metal pauldrons, along with fingerless gloves.

He hurries over to the table, plopping all of the water bottles onto it.

Then, he strikes a pose.

“I am an assassin!” He exclaims.

I crack up. “I can see that!”

“Oh, oh, hold that pose!” Merrill exclaims. She grabs her camera, then points it at him so that she can take a photo.

“Wait, wait! I want one with _mi amor_!” He’s very giggly. “Couscous, come here!”

“Sure.” Cousland’s wearing the warrior version of the Grey Warden armor. It looks… Heavy… And so incredibly professional.

I should’ve asked him for tips with _my_ costume.

His pauldrons look metallic – they’re huge and ornate, with lots of layer work. They attach to his gauntlets – which look a lot more practical than mine, but I digress. His faulds and boots also look like they’re made of metal. They’re painted so well, it they look like the real deal. His breastplate has a double-headed bird-like creature engraved onto it, held up in place with a bunch of leather straps…

The rest of the costume is pretty similar to Bethany and Amell’s – the same blue-and-silver stripe pattern, with tons of scales.  

A shield with a cool wing-like pattern is attached to his back, too.

I can’t believe that I was in the presence of a famous MMO-player for years, without even knowing.

The co-Commander of the Grey Wardens, who’s apparently been missing, in-game, for _months_ , has been serving me hot chocolate on an almost weekly basis.

He’s also posing for a silly photo with my co-worker.

It’s so surreal….

“A lot of people are here…” Nathaniel’s here, too. He’s wearing the rogue version of the Grey Warden armor – it’s essentially the same as Cousland’s armor, except it has a lot more leather and way less metal. Instead of those huge pauldrons, the rogue set has elaborate silver designs of the two-headed, bird-like creatures as shoulder pieces. His breastplate’s also a lot less bulky. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes!” Merrill exclaims. “It’s nice to see you again, Nathaniel! Sebastian is around, too.”

“W-Why are you telling me that?” Nathaniel splutters. “I’m glad he’s around, but that’s irrelevant to me.”

“I’m sure it is,” Fenris says.

“What’s that supposed to –” Nathaniel’s voice is doing the thing that my voice does. The… Increasing octave… Thing. He clears his throat. “Amell, we brought the water, as you asked.”

“Thanks!” Amell smiles. She opens one of the bottles up and takes a sip of water. “I hope that Sebastian stops by here. I saw his fans swarming him, earlier, you know.”

“Did you not get a photo of him, Nathaniel?” Zevran asks, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Stop,” Nathaniel groans. “Just…” He sighs.

Zevran laughs, and Cousland smirks.

Amell starts talking about a panel that she has to run tomorrow.

I’m… Going to use this as an opportunity, because... I have a suspicion.

I nudge Carver, and drop my voice low so that only he can hear m. “Carver! Does Nathaniel… You know…”

“What?” Carver squints at me, not bothering with dropping his voice. Luckily, no one really pays attention.

“Does Nathaniel actually _like_ Sebastian?” I’m picking up on some signals…

“He likes him plenty,” Carver says, his voice also lowered. “Never shuts up about the guy.”

“He has a crush on Sebastian, Hawke,” Fenris says – shit, he heard us. Whoops.

“A crush?!” Carver blurts out.

And…

Everyone’s staring.

Nathaniel, in particular, is visibly horrified.

I’m not sure what to say. Carver’s a deer in the headlights, practically. Fenris is pointedly looking away.

I’m… “Umm… Well…”

“Whoops!” Amell drops her water bottle.

Water spills everywhere.

“Woah!” Bethany leaps out of the way, successfully dodging all of the water.

“Are you alright?” Nathaniel goes into a panic. “Are your costumes alright?!”

Everyone starts panicking, but Amell’s fine. It didn’t get on anyone. Merrill dives over the booth for paper towels, regardless, and Nathaniel starts wiping stuff up with Amell.

“Amell, how clumsy of you,” Zevran croons. He’s giving Carver and me a _look_ and I just _know_ that Amell did that on purpose.

“Sorry! I’m super jittery right now,” Amell says.

“It’s okay, it didn’t get on anyone,” Bethany says, giggling.

Is this some sort of family solidarity? Amell just saved us from an incredibly awkward situation.

That’s what I get for trying to be _stealthy_.

This is why I didn’t choose to play as a rogue. I’d be the worst rogue ever.

I sigh, and Fenris bites his lower lip. He’s still pointedly looking away – obviously trying his best not to laugh.

“Hello, everyone! What’s happening with you all?”

Sebastian’s here. That timing’s almost too perfect.

He’s smiling and holding his bow, all _regally_.

Nathaniel looks up from the floor, paper towels still in hand.

“Sebastian?” He says.

“Nathaniel! I found you!” Sebastian smiles and it’s _dazzling_. “I was looking for you, earlier.”

Nathaniel smiles, too.

“Fucking hell,” Carver whispers. “Fenris is right.”

“It’s so _obvious_ ,” Fenris whispers back.

I’m stunned.

Completely stunned.

Can Sebastian even date a guy? He’s a priest, isn’t he?

Also, I thought he was straight, but I guess not?

Then again, just because Nathaniel has a crush on him… That doesn’t mean that it’s reciprocated.

I’m… Confused. Very confused.

 _I’m rooting for you, Nathaniel_.

Zevran looks absolutely _delighted_ , which is a little scary.

Amell tells Sebastian that she dropped her water bottle, and Sebastian offers to help, despite being in fancy armor…

It’s okay, though. Everyone gets it wiped up pretty fast.

Then I realize something.

Bethany’s here, but… Isabela isn’t. Neither is Aveline.

“Bethany – where’s Isabela?” I ask. “I thought she was with you.”

“She’s buying some stuff,” Bethany replies. “She wanted to buy me a present, so…” Her voice trails off.

“Isabela knows how it is done,” Zevran says, as he heads behind Amell’s table and takes a seat on the one provided chair.

Bethany giggles.

Carver’s eyebrows are raised _very_ high.

Jeez…

…Should I buy Fenris a present? Maybe I should. Though he _did_ take the shield…

Crap, I managed to forget about that.

There’s no way that Bethany and Carver didn’t notice… They’re probably going to give me _hell_ for that, later.

“Aveline’s with her, too,” Bethany says. “They’ll meet up with us soon.”

Fenris looks over his shoulder and back at the crowd. He keeps doing that…

Is he worried about something?

That’s what I’m wondering when his eyes widen in recognition.

And then I remember our conversation in the hotel room this morning.

How Fenris thinks that someone’s… Following him.

My heart is pretty much in my stomach, at this point. I turn to see who he’s looking at, and…

It’s the Qunari.

The Nehraa Qun member.

…

I’m assuming that’s not the person that Fenris is looking out for.

No, it’s… The person _I’m_ looking out for.

Crap!

“Hawke,” Fenris says. “Is that the member of Nehraa Qun that you were talking about?”

“Yes!” I squeak. “It is! I need to run!”

“Too late,” Fenris replies.

 _Too late_.

I’m going to get _throttled_. That guy’s muscular! I’m already bracing myself...

“Ashaad?!” Bethany exclaims. “Saemus! You guys made it!” She runs over to the Qunari.

…What?

Ashaad? Saemus?!

They’re Bethany’s friends from college!

She’s always ranting to me about howthey’re _wildly_ in-love, yet not together because of family stuff…

“Bethany!” The guy next to the Qunari is, comparatively, short. He’s pale, and his dark brown hair is swept back and sticking up in all sorts of directions. He’s in an all-green outfit with puffy sleeves – characteristic of Kirkwall’s nobles.

Saemus and Bethany hug, and I’m freaking out.

_Is Ashaad a member of Nehraa Qun?! Is my life seriously that weird?!_

“Guys, these are my friends, Saemus and Ashaad!” Bethany tells us.

Everyone says hello, but I’m too busy fearing for my life.

Fenris gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Surprisingly, it helps. If a fight _does_ break out, Fenris will totally help me out. And he’s strong!

“You go to the same school as Bethany and Carver, right?” I manage to say _something_.

Saemus and Ashaad both nod.

“We’re all graduating together, too!” Saemus says.

“Hopefully,” Ashaad says - his voice is so low and rumbly. Of course a big, muscular guy like him would have a fitting voice.

“We will, Ashaad!” Bethany laughs. “They don’t even play the MMO, but they came anyway!”

“Ah, then you are both like me,” Zevran says.

“And me,” Carver adds. “Haven’t met either of you, though.”

“Probably because we’re Art majors,” Saemus says. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Carver!”

The four of them start talking about college.

 _Youth_.

More importantly – they don’t play the MMO, which means that Ashaad is definitely _not_ a member of Nehraa Qun.

“Wait!” Merrill suddenly exclaims. She points at Ashaad. “Garrett, is that the guy you were afraid of?!”

…

Why do I keep getting into these situations?

Ashaad looks at me, questioning.

“He’s not that scary.” Saemus, no, you’re misunderstanding… “He’s always scowling like that. It’s just his face.”

“I understand, man,” Cousland says to Ashaad.

_Agh! No!_

“I wasn’t scared of you, Ashaad!” I say. “I just thought you were someone else!”

“I see,” Ashaad says.

Bethany squints at me. _Explain. Right now_.

“There was a guild that had beef with Wicked Grace,” I say. “They were all Qunari, right? And Isabela stole something from them. She sold it, but they found out, somehow. And they were threatening us, so I had to fight them in a duel, and when I won, I got this Champion title, and –”

“This whole process sounds vaguely illegal,” Amell comments.

…She’s part of the staff.

Talking about this in front of her might not be the best idea.

“It seems like an excellent time to wander around,” Fenris says. “Come with me, Hawke.”

People just keep saving me today.  

“That sounds like fun!” Merrill says. “I want to go, too!”

“I’ll join you!” Carver practically shouts.

Fenris pats my shoulder again – but, this time, his hand stays there. He also looks like he’s holding back laughter… Again.

I let him lead me back into the crowd, letting my own laughter free.

 

~

 

I buy the biggest Mabari plush that I can find.

It costs me fifty dollars, but I can honestly say that I have never felt so confident about a purchase in my life.

Merrill wanders off with Carver, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s being used as a porter for all the stuff that she’s going to buy.

Fenris doesn’t buy anything (and I don’t use him as a porter), but he looks on in amusement.

It’s comforting. Neither of us like crowds, but…

Well, I like _him_ , so…

Everyone else becomes bearable.

Also, a _lot_ of people ask for photos of us, which makes me feel pretty damn special… Even though I have to refrain from asking them for copies of said photos.

Hours pass and we end up getting lunch together.

We debated hunting the other members of Wicked Grace down, but the Convention is so _crowded_ , and, well…

I think they’d approve of us eating alone together. Just for today.

We buy really crappy Convention food. Just some rice and chicken, since the pizza line was way too long.

He has to take my gauntlets off for me… While wearing his own gauntlets.

It’s a mess, and we’re laughing so hard -- I’m almost in tears.

Also, when I spill rice on the red cloth draped around my chest, Fenris comes to my aid, quickly and with minimal mocking.

But there’s still _some_ mocking.

He’s fucking hilarious.

I still get kind of self-conscious around him, but, I don’t know… Something’s different now. 

After lunch, we wander around the Artist Alley. Fenris keeps looking over his shoulder, but he says nothing and is, otherwise, pretty relaxed… So I think the person he was worried about just isn’t around anymore.

Sword in one hand and Mabari in the other, I’m looking at an alarmingly detailed drawing of spindleweed (an in-game herb) when I catch sight of Isabela and Bethany.

They’re at another booth, talking to a seller who makes tiny clay figurines of various creatures from the MMO.

 _Of course_ Bethany would be drawn to that.

“Hey, Isabela and Bethany are over there,” I tell Fenris. “Should we go meet up with them?”

“Hmm,” Fenris examines them. “I don’t want to interrupt anything that Isabela has in-motion.”

I stare at them for a while. I’m still trying to come to terms with everything, to be honest. I guess that’s normal, though.

It’s not like I want to give Isabela my damn _blessing_ or anything. Bethany doesn’t need anything like that.

And I know that Isabela’s not just fooling around… She’d never do that to Bethany.

“What, are you feeling old?” Fenris asks. “Mr. Big Brother.”

“No, I just –”  Garrett, no. “– I feel weird! I can’t help it! ” Shit, Fenris has effectively opened up my mental floodgates. Great. “I love them, but I just feel _weird_. Am I a bad person for that?!”

Dumping this on Fenris in the middle of a crowded Artist Alley is _definitely_ not a good idea.

I just… I haven’t talked to anyone about this before.

It feels selfish, so I just… Keep quiet.

“No,” Fenris says. “You care about them. That’s a good thing.”

He’s looking at me very meaningfully. I can’t look away from him, and –

“ _Excuse me_ ,” A guy – who’s wearing a black shirt with a green frog design – pushes in between us, then starts shuffling through the artist’s prints.

“Ass,” Fenris mutters under his breath. The guy doesn’t seem to hear him. “Let’s go, Hawke.”

“Yeah.” I follow him out of the Artist Alley – we stealthily walk past Isabela and Bethany.

Okay, no, we walk past them like normal. The crowd conceals us pretty well, even though I’m taller than most of the people here.

“Where should we go now?” Fenris asks. “Perhaps we should look for everyone else?”

Right, Fenris and I have been together for _hours_.

“That sounds good,” I say. “Let’s find a clear space and make some calls.”

Fenris nods, and we make our way out of the Dealers’ room.  

 

~

 

I’m sitting on the most uncomfortable bench in the world, probably.

Fenris and I got a bit distracted, but we managed to contact everyone.

We’re outside, now… It’s 4pm and I’m really sweaty. This costume gets _so_ hot. I can’t wait to take it off. My sword is propped up next to me.

I’m genuinely surprised that nothing broke…

“That was a good first day,” Merrill says. “I bought so much stuff!”

“You did,” Carver says. As suspected, he was carrying everything for her. There’s so many plastic bags…

“But… I didn’t get a dog like Garrett!” Merrill has my Mabari plush on her lap. “Do you think Miles will be jealous?”

“Miles isn’t that petty,” I say, but I make a mental note to put the plush somewhere that he can’t get to.

“I’m exhausted.” Aveline’s sitting next to me. I barely saw her all day…

“Didn’t you have fun _romping_ around with me, Big Girl?” Isabela’s sitting on the pavement.

“No!” Aveline frowns. “You haggle like a _demon_.”

“I got some great deals!” Isabela announces. “And I didn’t even try to steal anything. Not once.”

“That’s character development,” Fenris says wryly. He’s standing, sword in hand, right next to the bench. I moved around to make room for him, earlier… But he said he was fine.

Isabela grins. “I steal from people who _deserve_ it, Fenny. I’m like Robin Hood.”

“Right,” Fenris mutters.

“A sexy Robin Hood,” Isabela continues.

“Where _is_ Sebastian?” Anders whines. He’s standing, but leaning against his staff for support. “I’m _roasting_ in this robe!”

“Maybe his fans got to him,” Bethany says. “Being popular seems hard.” She’s sitting next to Isabela.

She’s also wearing a brand-new necklace… It’s silver, with a little white anchor pendant attached to it. It fits in with her costume, somehow.

“It’s not too bad, Sunshine,” Varric says. He’s standing – and rapidly texting.

“Where wereyou all day, Varric?” I didn’t see him at all, not since he left with those Convention staff members.

“I was doing business today, Hawke,” he replies. “Networking.”

“You’re such a tycoon,” Isabela purrs.

“Naturally.” Varric smirks.

“Well, that’s great and all, but I’m pretty sure that I’m dying,” I say. My _beard_ is sweaty. This sucks.

We’re waiting on Sebastian. Zevran and his posse are apparently helping Amell sort out the Game Staff booth, since the Dealers’ room is closed.

There’s also night Convention activities, but those tend to get overrun by younger people, and can veer into some… Cringe-worthy territory. My time for such things has passed.

(I just _know_ that I’ll end up at one at some point this weekend. But… That won’t stop me from hoping that I don’t.)

“My feet are going to fall off,” I groan.

“This is why I didn’t even try to make my heavy armor,” Aveline states.

“Spoken like a true woman of practicality,” Varric says.

“Ooh, Sebastian’s on his way!” Merrill points back towards the Convention center.

Sure enough, Sebastian is speed-walking out, bow in hand. Sunlight’s reflecting off his armor.

“It’s about time.” Anders stretches.

“What did you even buy, Anders?” I ask. He was the one talking about _reckless spending_ …

“I got a collar for Ser Pounce-A-Lot, but that’s it.” Anders says. “I did a lot of browsing. Real pros wait for prices to go down, Garrett.”

“Don’t cry when everything sells out,” Fenris says.

“I’m not paying like twenty dollars for a shirt, Fenris,” Anders retorts.

They bicker a bit. I tune out and focus on _not_ keeling over.

Sebastian finally walks up to us. “Were you all waiting for a long time? I’m so sorry.” He’s out of breath and a little disheveled…

“You should be,” Varric says, playfully. “Poor Hawke’s on his deathbed.”

“It’s no big deal,” I say. “I think I’m, uh, doing a little bit better than Sebastian.”

If you look deep into Sebastian’s eyes, you can see death itself.

I’m _really_ glad that I’m not popular… The Nehraa Qun scare was enough.

“I’m fine,” Sebastian says. “I… forgot how determined some people can be.”

“Did anyone sling underwear at you?” Isabela asks.

Sebastian smiles and it’s very strained. “I’d prefer not to answer that.”

“Aw, boring.” Isabela stands up, then offers her hand to Bethany. Bethany grabs onto it, and Isabela pulls her back up on her feet.

“You’ll get the tales out of him soon enough, Rivaini,” Varric says. He slips his phone back into a vest pocket. “For now… Guess we’re heading back to the Amerid Inn.”

“I’ll go meet up with Alistair, then,” Carver says. “Here, Merrill. Your… Things.”

He’s about to give her all of her shopping bags when Sebastian interrupts –

“Actually, Alistair invited us all to the Hanged Man.” Sebastian smiles. “He wants to see everyone, since he hasn’t met the entirety of the guild yet.”

“That’s his own damn fault,” Carver grumbles. “He can never sit still at these things.”

“So we’re going to the Hanged Man?” I ask. “When?”

“I’m assuming now,” Sebastian replies. “Alistair was very excited, saying how he wants everyone to stay in costume, too.”

…The thought of staying in this costume for the whole night makes me want to cry.

“That sounds wonderful! I’m in the mood for a cup of tea!” Merrill doesn’t share my concerns.

“You have more teabags, don’t you, Daisy?” Varric laughs. “Guess there’s no helping it. Who’s driving? Vallen?”

Aveline stands up. “Obviously.”

“Booze! Booze!” Isabela chants as she marches towards the parking lot. Bethany chants and marches with her, too.

The rest of the guild trials after them, talking about various things.

Fenris walks beside me, but he’s clearly spaced out, so I don’t bother with making conversation…

“Hey. Garrett.” Carver walks over to me. He’s still holding all of Merrill’s stuff.

“Hmm?” It’s weird for Carver to approach me… _Ever_.

“Is Bethany dating your friend?” He asks. “Elizabeth, or whatever.”

“ _Isabela_ , you jackass,” I say. “And… I guess so? I’m not sure.”

Carver grunts. “Our family just keeps getting bigger, huh?”

…What? “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t say anything, but I did notice.”

He’s being intentionally cryptic, but I know what he’s talking about.

He noticed the shield on Fenris.

 _Family_?

That’s… Extreme.

I look away from Carver.

He walks by my side for a bit, but then picks up his pace so that he can re-join the others.

Fenris is still spaced out. I doubt that he was paying any attention to Carver…

 _Our family just keeps getting bigger_.

It’s a nice thought, but it still forms a knot in my throat.

 

~

 

The Hanged Man is as crappy and beautiful as ever.

Also, we’re the only people here. Corff isn’t even around.

“What the fuck is this place supposed to be?” Carver wonders aloud as he walks in.

“It’s heaven on earth, Junior,” Varric replies. “Just give it time.”

Carver gives him a slightly dirty look, then stomps off to sit down at a table.

“…Is the Hanged Man even open yet?” Aveline asks.

“Yeah. Corff goes on breaks,” Varric says as he heads behind the bar. “Here, let me get you a drink, Red.”

“No.” Aveline puts her hands up defensively. “I’m driving.”

“I didn’t mean an _alcoholic_ drink,” Varric says, shrugging. “But suit yourself.”

“Varric!” Merrill takes a seat at the counter. “I would like an alcohol, please!”

“One alcohol coming right up.” Varric chuckles. “Hey, Rivaini. Come put your bartending skills to some good use.”

“Why, Varric!” Isabela goes behind the counter, too. “It’d be my damn pleasure!”

Aveline sighs. “You realize how suspicious this is, don’t you?”

“Ten adults in full cosplay, taking over a seemingly abandoned bar?” Anders takes a seat at the counter. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“At least we left all of our things in the truck,” Merrill chirps. “The swords and staffs and stuff!”

“More people are coming, too,” Sebastian adds.

I’m still hot and sweaty. My feet have surpassed the painful stage. Now they’re just numb.

I’m mourning over the loss of my ability to feel my feet when something jabs into my side.

“Oof-?!”

“Hawke.” Oh. Fenris elbowed me.

“What was that for?” It hurt! He has pointy elbows! Wait -- he’s wearing gauntlets that cover his elbows. That explains the… Pointiness.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel? I’m... Tired.” He _does_ sound tired, but…

“Sure,” I say. “I’m pretty tired, too.” I also think that he wants to talk to me. Privately. “I can’t feel my feet.”

Deep breaths, Garrett...

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to drive back?”

I gesture at my ensemble. “I can’t drive dressed like this.” That’d be a huge safety hazard. “It’s okay. We can walk.”

I mean, people might stare at us, but… There’s a Convention in the area. They should expect these shenanigans.

“Okay.” Fenris looks towards the bar. “Give me a moment.”

He walks over to the bar and goes behind the counter. He then leans down and, when he’s upright again, he’s holding a bottle of wine.

“Nice, Fenny!” Isabela’s overjoyed.

“I’ll be taking this,” he says, flatly. “Here.” He reaches into his pocket and puts some money on the counter.

“Fenris, by all means,” Varric says. “My tab’s already gone to hell. It’d be rude if I just stopped treating everyone. Allow me.” Varric grabs the wine bottle, uncorks it, and hands it back to Fenris.

 Fenris smirks. “Suit yourself,” he says. With the bottle of wine in one hand, he stuffs the money back into his pocket with the other.

 “You kids have fun, now,” Bethany teases.

Of _course_ she was eavesdropping…

“Don’t stay out too late!” Isabela adds, laughing.

“Very funny, guys,” I say. “We’ll see you back at the hotel. Make sure that Bethany and Carver don’t get too wrecked.”

“I was fine last night, you jerk!” Bethany calls out. Carver just gives me a really disgruntled look. He’s back to being his usual, grumpy self.

Aveline chuckles. “They’re in good hands, Hawke.”

“And make sure that Dad’s truck doesn’t get _wrecked_ , or something,” I add. “Since we’re walking back.”

“Hawke! For fuck’s sake, we got it!” Isabela sticks her tongue out at me. “Get going, you damn grandpas.”

As Fenris and I leave the bar, I can only imagine the celebration that Wicked Grace is about to have.

Once the Grey Wardens arrive, Wicked Grace is totally going to get them in on the Operation… Though I think Zevran might’ve done that already.

What I’m saying is…They’re all going to think that Fenris and I are up to something.

Something suggestive.

Which is wrong, since we’re totally not! We’re not up to anything.

At least, I don’t think we are.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit_.

We walk down the pavement together, side-by-side. The road’s clear – no cars are around -- and the sun isn’t as merciless as it was earlier.

Fenris swigs from his bottle of wine occasionally.

I’m starting to think that he’s actually just tired, to the point where doesn’t want to talk, when he sighs loudly.

“We were interrupted at the Convention,” he says. “Concerning Isabela and Bethany.”

Oh, right. That was embarrassing.

He’s still thinking about that?

“Yeah, we were.” I laugh sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not that worked up about it… I just need to talk to them about stuff sometime, you know?”

Fenris laughs wryly. “So, you realized that yourself?”

I look at him. “What do you mean?”

“That you need to talk to them. That simply mulling around about it won’t do any good.”

“Ah. Yeah. I guess so,” I say. “I don’t really _want_ to, but I can’t suppress my overprotective older brother nature, you know?” I laugh. “Plus, I care about Isabela, too. I hope Bethany realizes who she’s taking on.”

I love Isabela. She’s one of my absolute best friends.

But… She also has a _lot_ of baggage.

“We all have our demons,” Fenris mutters. He drinks more wine, then catches me staring at him. “Want some?”

I know that alcohol’s the last thing I need right now, but…

“Yeah, sure.” He hands it to me and I gulp some down. I don’t know much about wine, so I’m not sure if this wine qualifies as _good_ or not.

It’s… Grapey… And a little bitter.

And, yes, a part of me is _screaming_ over how I _technically_ just indirectly kissed him… But that part is small and freakish, so I try to ignore it.

…Yeah, I know. I’ll freak out about it later when I’m alone in the shower, or something…

Anyway, I give the wine back to him.

“You’re a good person, Hawke,” Fenris says, quietly.

It catches me _completely_ off-guard.

“Wha—” Woah, okay, keep it together, Garrett. “What? Why?”

“You’re endlessly kind to your friends. To your family.” He gently kicks a loose pebble on the pavement; it bounces off. “Aren’t you worried that they’ll take advantage of that kindness?”

“I wasn’t always on good terms with my family,” I say. “After Dad’s whole thing, you know… I got kind of pissed off with them. The pressure, and all.”

“That’s understandable, though,” Fenris says.

 “No.” I chew on my lower lip. “I was a jackass.”

Fenris sighs again. “If _that’s_ what being a ‘jackass’ means to you, I have no idea how you associate with someone like me.”

Fuck. “I really was a brat, though! I’d go for weeks without calling home when everyone… _Needed_ me. It was wrong. I was just running away from... Reality.”

Fenris knocks more wine back. “I understand,” he says once he’s done.

An awkward silence settles between us. A bright red car drives by, and I see a tiny girl in the passenger seat pointing excitedly out the window at Fenris and I… We’re in costumes, after all.

“I try to be there for everyone, now,” I say. “Not just my family, but friends, too… Including you, of course.”

“And you’re not afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

He doesn’t reply, but I know what he’s asking.

“I trust everyone,” I say. “They’re all good people.”  

“I’m trying to,” Fenris says. “I am.” His voice isn’t wavering or weak, and his head is held high. He’s not revealing a weakness to me. He’s just… Talking.

“Do you have anyone else?” I ask, completely without thinking.

I immediately hate myself for it.

“Anyone else?”

“Like…” Garrett, why?! Why do you ask the worst questions _ever_ , all the time?! “Family. Friends. I don’t know. People who you trust? Unconditionally, and all that…” I trail off.

Fenris gets quiet again, but it’s a thoughtful quiet. He drinks more wine. We keep walking.

“I did,” he says, finally.

“Right!” There, see?! That was painless. “It’s like that.”

“There was my... Ex.” Never mind. Not painless. “But that was always fucked up. Whatever existed between us... It wasn't trust." More wine.

I… Kind of want to ask him about his family.

But I don’t.

“Do you know about the Fog Warriors?” He asks… Randomly.

“…I don’t think so?” I’ve never heard that name before…

“Ah.” Fenris chuckles, but it’s a hollow sort of sound. Not his usual laugh. “They were a band. Alternative rock.”

“I’ve never been good with bands,” I admit.

“It’s alright.” Fenris brushes his hair back – out of his eyes. “My ex and I did a lot of travelling. One time, we had a fight, I suppose. He ended up leaving me in a city I didn’t know.”

“What?!” That’s terrible! “He just left you?”

“Yeah. He just…” Fenris shrugs. “He did that sort of stuff.”

Okay. Wow. Fenris wasn’t exaggerating when he called his ex a jackass.

“I was in a rough spot,” he continues. “I had no money and I… Didn’t really know how to fend for myself. That’s when I met the Fog Warriors.”

So… He met a band when he was stranded in some city… After having a huge fight with his then-boyfriend.

“They were on tour and very kind. They gave me a job and taught me many things.” Fenris smiles. It’s a small smile. A nostalgic little smile. I’ve never seen that smile. “I felt… Alive with them. But then he came back.”

“Your ex?”

Fenris nods, and his smile drops. “He told me that he was sorry. That he still loved me. All of that fucking _bullshit_. The band wasn’t having any of it. They told him to fuck off. The bassist even hit him – right in the jaw.”

Fenris laughs – but it’s short. Abrupt, like a bark.

“I was going to leave him for the people I trusted,” he says. “The people I loved. But I didn’t. When they started ganging up on him, something in me snapped, and…” He shakes his head. “I told them all to fuck off. I went back to my ex's side, and that was that.”

... _Shit_.

“I know that they were just trying to protect me,” Fenris says. “They were doing the right thing. I was… Foolish. And I realized I was. They were the reason why I left him a few months later.”

“Holy fuck, Fenris,” I say. It’s all I _can_ say.

He smirks. “Yeah. That’s… A good reaction. Ugh. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” He gulps down more wine. A _lot_ more wine. “I’m just – I’m tired, you know? Today was good. This whole trip… It’s reminded me of how it was back then. With the… Band. I never thought I’d feel like this again. So… Thanks.”

His cheeks are a little pink. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or… Embarrassment.

Maybe it’s both.

“It’s no problem,” I say. “You’re important to us, Fenris. Even if Anders might claim otherwise.” 

That gets him laughing. “Fuck. I’m embarrassed,” he says, through the laughter. Is he tipsy? “I don’t know why I told you all of that. I don’t, Hawke.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say, because I understand how these moments work.

Sometimes, stuff just pops up.

It happens. And I’m genuinely glad it did, because…

I knew that Fenris went through some rough shit.

I know that he’s probably hiding a _lot_ more of that stuff, too.

But… Regardless…

“You’re _amazing_ , Fenris.”

“I’m… Ugh, why did I tell you all of that?” He covers his face with his free hand. “I’m blaming the wine.”

“The wine?” I’m trying so hard not to laugh. “Really, Fenris?”

“Really, Hawke.” He uncovers his face. “This is the wine’s fault. I could just… Throw this goddamn bottle across the fucking street.”

“Do it,” I say. “Throw it.”

“Hawke, it’s still daylight,” he says. “We’ll get arrested.”

“Aveline’s not here,” I reply, innocently.

That _really_ cracks him up.

“It’d be a waste of a perfectly good, shitty wine,” Fenris says. “I’ll throw it later.”

“Later?!” I can’t hold it back anymore – now I’m laughing.

“Yes,” he says. “In a safe, confined space.”

Laughing with him in the middle of a sidewalk, each of us dressed up in our Convention costumes… It feels good.

Not even strange. Just… Good. So…

I do something.

My body just moves on its own. It’s almost instinctual.

I reach out and grab his hand.

And we’re not laughing as hard – no, at this point, we’re just kind of giggling.

But I don’t even feel embarrassed. Not that much, anyway.

Mostly because, without hesitation, he holds onto my hand, too.

“I’m starving,” I announce.

“You just ate.”

“No! That was several hours ago.”

“It was two hours ago, Hawke.”

I can’t feel Fenris’ hand. Our gauntlets are effectively getting in the way of this... Situation.

“Convention food is terrible,” I say. “It’s not satisfying at all.”

“True.”

I can’t believe that I gained the confidence to hold his damn hand when neither of us can actually _feel_ each other.

But…

It counts, right?

“Does the Amerid Inn have room service?” I wonder out loud.

“We can check,” Fenris replies.

The sun is still hot. The road is still clear. Wicked Grace is still at the Hanged Man, and Fenris is still holding the bottle of wine.

We make our way back to the Amerid Inn, gauntleted hand in gauntleted hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 21 chapters later and mary aka snoot continues to be the best beta ever. shocking, i know. (that was sarcasm, it's not even a LITTLE bit shocking, thank you mary omg you're the best even if you drink strawberry margaritas without me)!!!  
> also: thanks so much for all the continued support, everyone (and also for all of the birthday wishes on the last update!) - you guys are absolutely amazing! ♥♥♥ take all of my love, just take it.
> 
> AND BEFORE I FORGET... wicked grace has a blog now - it's [here](http://goodwithwood.tumblr.com) on tumblr, so feel free to browse it, if that tickles your fancy.


	22. Chapter 22

Fenris and I got back to the hotel, still hand-in-hand.

The receptionist greeted us and was very friendly. Almost too friendly. There was a lot of enthusiastic waving.

He had to let go of my hand when we got to our room, since he got the key out, but…

It’s okay. It’s fine.

It happened, and I hope it happens again. Preferably sooner than later, but... I’m not picky.

We got out of our costumes and took showers, because hygiene is important. I want to specify that these were _separate_ showers, because I think that specification is also important.

Then we ordered room service. I got so excited that I ordered every single thing on the menu. In my defense, the Amerid Inn has a poor selection.

Anyway, Fenris laughed. That made all of the soggy fried chicken totally, completely worth it. (I’m not sure why the Amerid Inn’s menu has so much fried chicken, and I’m not sure why all of the fried chicken was soggy. I’m not going to question it, though, because it’s weirdly unsurprising.)

And, now? Now we’re in pajamas, watching an incredibly bad movie that was directed, produced and written by one of the actors.

“This makes no sense,” Fenris grumbles. He takes a sip from his second bottle of wine.

“That’s the point,” I say. “It’s –”

“Hawke,” he turns to me. “It makes no sense.” His speech is a _little_ slurred. Just a little.

We’re sitting on our bed, and it’s just… Nice.

An actor in the movie bursts through a door leading to a roof, repeatedly saying _something_ and throwing an empty water bottle on the ground. He then greets his friend as if nothing happened.

“Who the fuck wrote this?” Fenris asks, almost incredulous.

“He did,” I say, pointing to the actor.

Fenris rolls his eyes, and I crack up.

At that very moment, _I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing_ starts blaring from my phone, which is resting on the bedside table by my side of the bed.

I pause the movie with the remote and lunge over there, grabbing the phone with one hand. The Caller ID is Unknown, which likely means that Anders is calling me.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Yep, Anders. “People are drunk.”

“So?”

“ _So,_ us relatively-sober people need help dealing with the aforementioned drunk people.”

“What?! No!” I don’t want to walk all the way back down there! “I’m in pajamas. I’m watching a terrible movie with Fenris and my hands are still greasy from the fried chicken!”

“Garrett,” Anders says. “If I’m in this costume for, like, another minute, I’ll rip it right off my body and start doing interpretive dances in the middle of this fucking hotel lobby.”

“Wait, you’re in the lobby?”

“Yeah,” Anders says. “So get your greasy ass down here before I get arrested for public indecency, because, I swear –”

“Okay, okay, keep your pants on,” I say. “Literally, please keep your pants on. We’re coming.”

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “Who is that?”

“It’s Anders,” I reply.

Fenris makes his classic Anders Face, which involves a scrunched up mouth and a furrowed brow. It’s _somehow_ cute.

“Yes, it’s me,” Anders says.

“I was talking to Fen– You know what? It’s not worth it.” I sigh and Anders laughs. “We’ll be right down.”

“See ya, Hawkey,” Anders says, and I hang up.

“What’s wrong with them now?” Fenris drawls, putting the wine bottle down on his own bedside table.

“They just need assistance with drunk people,” I say. “In the lobby.”

“Fun stuff.” Fenris stands up with a grunt.

“I know, right?” I get up, too, and stretch my arms. “Let’s just hope no excessive bodily fluids are involved.”

“Yeah,” Fenris says. “Let’s hope.” He moves around the room, grabbing our room card key off the dresser. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a grey sweater that’s way too big for him. Sometimes, I catch a little glimpse of his tattoos – those white lines, spiraling on his chest.

I’m trying not to look, though.

Believe me! I’m trying.

We leave the Warrior room and take the elevator down to the lobby, riding down in silence.

The Amerid Inn’s elevator is… Small. Pitifully small. I don’t like elevators in general, so I _really_ don’t appreciate the size.

_Don’t look at Fenris’ chest tattoos, Garrett._

_Don’t do it._

I look up instead.

I just _know_ that Fenris is looking at me. Probably in a ‘what the fuck’ way, since I’m staring straight up at the ceiling of the elevator, but I’ll take it.

The elevator gets down to the lobby floor. Its doors open, and…

“Garrett Hawke! It’s _Garrett Hawke_!”

Alistair’s already right in front of us.

“I was just heading up to my room! I haven’t seen you in… Days! Or, weeks, maybe?”

He’s dressed up as Grey Warden – a warrior, though his armor isn’t as heavy-looking as Cousland’s.

“Hey, Alistair,” I say, as Fenris and I step out of the elevator and get out of the way. “Yeah, it’s been a long time.” His shifts haven’t been lining up with my visits to _Duncan’s_ , and I’ve barely been going there since I started working on my costume…

Speaking of costumes, everyone else is scattered around the lobby, still in costume. Granted, some of them are definitely missing some key components of their ensembles.

Zevran in particular. His pauldrons are gone, and so are his gloves.

Isabela is, surprisingly, still fully clothed.

Both of them are very animated, which does not bode well for my night.

“How’ve you been?!” Alistair’s very enthusiastic. “Carver’s told me a lot of things.” He pauses, then laughs. “Well… No, actually. He hasn’t. I don’t know why I said that!”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say.

“Ha-ha, you and your sarcasm,” Alistair says, nudging me. (What sarcasm?) “But, seriously, how’ve you been? I looked everywhere for you at the Convention!”

“I was, uh, around,” I say.

“ _Around_?” Alistair echoes, and then this look of realization dawns upon him. “Ooh! I get it. Carver did tell me one thing – your _boyfriend’s_ here, isn’t he? Were you off with him?”

I stare at him.

 _Alistair_. Of all the people… Alistair.

I’ve never even talked to Alistair about my relationships, or lack thereof.

I’m actually very against _ever_ doing that.

Frankly, I’m very against whatever is occurring right now.

“Darn it, wait!” Alistair shifts his attention to Fenris. “You’re him, aren’t you? Garrett’s new boyfriend! I’m sorry, didn’t put it together! Busy day, you know? I’ve been drinking, too!”

Wait, did Carver seriously talk to Alistair about this? Why did he _misinform_ Alistair?!

“I’m not drunk, though,” Alistair prattles on. “Maybe a little buzzed. Ate a lot of peanuts. Those helped.”

Fenris seems like he has no idea how to respond. I don’t blame him because I feel the same way.

Alistair’s smile drops. “Your lack of enthusiasm is a little worrying.”

Fenris and I just stare.

“Is this about the peanuts?”

“No,” Fenris says.

“…Wrong guy?” Alistair asks. “I got the wrong guy, didn’t I?”

“I’m not seeing anyone right now,” I say, hurriedly. “Carver must’ve been, uh, mistaken, when he told you that. Um. Information. I mean…” I gesture at Fenris. “We’re obviously not dating.”

“Really? Whoops! Sorry! How awkward!” Alistair laughs sheepishly. “My bad. The pajamas and disheveled hair threw me off, I guess.”

Fenris clears his throat, then runs a hand through his hair, as if to smoothen it. “I’ll help Anders with those bags,” he says.

 _…_ Help Anders? _Help Anders_?

 “Okay,” I say, internally aghast but _somehow_ not showing it. Fenris nods stiffly and speed-walks away.

 _Fenris_ left to go _help Anders_?! Holy shit, he must _seriously_ feel awkward!

Dammit, Carver! I’d be mad at Alistair, but he didn’t know any better.

“You’re welcome,” Alistair says, as Fenris speed-walks across the lobby.

“What?” I still can’t believe that Fenris is helping Anders… He yanks some bags out of Anders’ hands and Anders lets out a very loud yelp.

“I just did it,” Alistair says. “The collaboration? I just did it!”

“ _What_?” I repeat, looking back at Alistair.

Then I work it out.

“Do you mean the Operation?” I ask.

“Is that what it’s called?” Alistair strokes his little soul patch (are Nathaniel and him _soul patch buddies_?! I’m alarmed). “Could’ve sworn Zevran said collaboration.”

“No! He didn’t!” I squeak. “It’s the Operation! Alistair, if you’re going to make my life a living hell, at least get the name right.”

I knew leaving them at the Hanged Man was a bad idea.

I knew it!

But I got some quality Fenris time, so whatever.

 _Whatever_.

“I still did it!” Alistair insists. “It was great!”

“ _This_ is your wingman technique?” It’s abysmal. “No wonder Carver’s still single.”

“Ow! Garrett!” Alistair puts a hand on his chest. “That hurt!”

“You’ll get over it,” I say, flatly. “I have to do damage control with him, now…” And help intoxicated people… Tonight’s shaping up to be _fun_.

“You’ll thank me later,” Alistair says, sliding past me and pressing the Up button for the elevator. “Trust me!”

This is why I was morally opposed to the Operation… It all goes downhill once you give a matchmaking plot a formal name. Trust me. Your little brother’s best friend somehow gets involved and then it’s all over.

The doors of the elevator open up and Alistair gives me a cheerful wave as he steps inside of it. He’s genuinely proud of himself.

I was having such a good night, too…

There’s suddenly cheering. I glance over to the lobby and, yeah, Isabela _and_ Zevran have totally just draped themselves on Fenris.

Aveline’s frowning when she catches sight of me, so I head over before she gets pissed.

“Finally!” Anders storms over and thrusts a plastic bag into my face. “Take your damn dog!”

My Mabari! “Miles 2.0!” I forgot that I left him in the truck!

“We left the props behind,” Aveline adds.

“In the Hanged Man?!”

“Yes, Garrett,” Anders says, rolling his eyes. “We left the props we spent _hours_ making in a seedy _bar_ filled with _drunk_ people, so they can engage in _combat_ and –”

“What?! Seriously?!”

“They’re in the truck,” Aveline says, glaring at Anders, who’s cackling.

“Not funny, Anders,” I huff. I take Miles 2.0 out of the plastic bag and inspect him.

“We have bigger problems,” Aveline gestures at Isabela and Zevran (and Fenris, by extension, since he’s still being draped upon).

“Fenny is _too_ cute!” Isabela says. 

“He is cute _and_ surprisingly lean.” Zevran pokes at Fenris’ shoulder. “I cannot believe that you work at a library – unless Garrett was lying.”

Isabela guffaws. “That goof’s physically incapable of lying, Zev!”

 _Goof?!_ I’m not a goof!

Zevran laughs as if it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. Yeah, he’s definitely a little drunk.

I’d judge them a little, but Isabela and Zevran are super old friends and they haven’t seen each other in a long time, so…

Their repeated drunkenness is excusable. It’s not like they weren’t up-front about their intentions to get hammered several times during this trip.

Anyway, Fenris is clutching onto the plastic bags, a little red in the face.

“I work at a library, yes,” he says.

“Libraries are hard work, Zev.” Isabela wraps her arms around Fenris’ waist. “Don’t you know?” An irrational part of me twinges in jealousy.

Shameful, Garrett.

“True. There are lots of books to carry. And there is…” Zevran smirks. “A lot of checking out to do.”

Okay. Intervening now. Right now.

“Let me help you with that, Fenris!” I holler as I stomp over to them. “Zevran, Isabela, get off.”

“Boo!” Isabela sticks her tongue out at me. Real mature, Isabela… Anyway, she lets go of him.

 Zevran’s grin widens as he lets go, too.

“It’s alright,” Fenris says, pointedly not making eye contact with me.

 _I’m going to throw Alistair out a window_.

I sigh. “Dare I ask where everyone else is?”

“By the entrance,” Aveline says. She points over there and, yep – Cousland, Amell, Varric, Merrill and the twins are there.

Bethany’s leaning on Carver and Carver has a very faraway look in his eyes, but they’re fine.

I trust my friends, but I’m still relieved that the twins are safe.

I know, I know! They're both adults. Still.

It's a big brother thing, alright?

Amell is talking about something and gesturing a whole lot. Varric and Merrill are nodding along but I can’t tell if Cousland’s paying attention.

Wait…

“Where are Sebastian and Nathaniel?”

Zevran cracks up again. “Aah, Garrett. Dearest Gare…”

“ _Gary_ ,” Isabela whispers.

“No!” That was unacceptable! I do _not_ go by that name! “Isabela! What did I tell you about _Gary_ –“

Zevran’s practically screaming with laughter, and Isabela is, too.

The receptionist doesn’t seem too bothered, though. She’s eating fried shrimp and watching a show on her laptop. Right there, at the counter. Not even trying to hide it.

Am I in an alternate universe? Does the Amerid Inn exist in some sort of parallel reality?

“Okay! Let’s get a move on!” Aveline announces. She reaches her arm out. “Isabela, come on. You can barely stand up.”

“Excuse me, Madam Spoilsport,” Isabela says as she slowly sags down to the floor. “I can hold my liquor. Who do you think I am?”

“Don’t get me started,” Aveline says. “I have no idea how you’re even conscious right now.”

“We simply had to make up for last night,” Zevran says.

“Hell yes!” Isabela high fives Zevran.

Aveline just groans.

“Hey.” I feel a hand on my shoulder and I jump a little.

Cousland’s next to me. He’s a master at creeping up on me, completely undetected… Anyway, Bethany runs over here, too.

“Sunshine!” Isabela shouts. “I haven’t seen you in days!”

Bethany giggles. “It’s been a few minutes, Bela!”

“No way!” Isabela slings her arm around Bethany, and Bethany almost falls over.

“You’re drunk,” Bethany says.

“Making up for lost time,” Isabela replies. “Carry me!”

“Alright!” Bethany immediately attempts to grab Isabela, bridal-style, but Isabela’s weight causes her to fall forward.

Not by a lot. Just a little.

Enough to be moderately disastrous, but Aveline intervenes before that can happen.

“Okay, just – hold still!” Aveline repositions Isabela, so that she can be held up by both Bethany and Aveline.

The height difference is _hilarious_. Isabela’s practically diagonal.

“This is a mess,” Anders notes. It really is.

“You’re going back to your room _right now_ ,” Aveline says. “Someone get the elevator for us.”

“I’m on it,” Fenris says, speed-walking over there, plastic bags filled with Convention merchandise still in hand.

Is he avoiding me?

Oh my god, is Fenris avoiding me?!

“Being carried off by two beautiful women… This is a dream come true,” Isabela says, wistfully, as they carry her over to the elevator. “Granted, one of you is significantly more beautiful than the other.”

“I’ll drop you, I swear,” Aveline retorts.

“That looks fun,” Zevran comments, innocuously.

“Yeah,” Cousland agrees. “Want to try?”

Zevran looks up at Cousland, thinking. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”

Without another word, Cousland picks up Zevran, bridal-style, with complete success despite all of the armor he’s wearing.

“Holy shit!” I exclaim. Zevran’s not exactly heavy, but… Still! Cousland looks like he’s just picked up a pillow or something.

Zevran wraps his arms around him and clings on, smirking as he gets carried off to the elevator, too.

“Not fair!” I can hear Bethany yelling from the elevator. “I tried that first!”

“How haven’t we gotten kicked out of this hotel?” Anders wonders aloud. “Or, you know. At _least_ mildly chastised?”

It’s because the receptionist is preoccupied with Netflix and fried shrimp.

Anyway, the elevator’s pretty full, now, so I guess the rest of us will just wait around and --

“Come on, Garrett!” Okay, according to Aveline, I’m not waiting around at all. “You too, Fenris.”

Of _course_ she’d call for the two of us.

Fenris nods and quickly steps into the elevator.

“Enjoy yourself, Hawke,” Anders says, giving Miles 2.0 a pat with his free hand.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but _please_ don’t mess it up,” I say.

Anders laughs. “Why, whatever do you mean by that, Garrett?”

 _Ugh_.

Whatever. I glare at Anders, then head over to the elevator before I invoke the wrath of Aveline.

~  
  


The elevator was cramped. I stood next to Fenris, but, again… I pointedly avoided looking at him. For different reasons, though.

Reasons that were significantly more awkward.

That aside, avoiding eye contact wasn’t too hard, since Zevran’s boot was in my face the entire time. He almost kicked me, too. Luckily, Cousland and Zevran’s room is on a different, lower floor, so they got off the elevator pretty quickly. As they left, Zevran winked at me, and that wink made me nervous.

I’m already on high alert as-is.

I don’t need _sly_ _winking_.

Once we got to the floor that all of the Wicked Grace rooms are on, Fenris and I trail down the hallway, behind Aveline, Isabela and Bethany.

Various parts of Isabela’s costume fall off, somehow… Her bandana. Her sash. One boot. A glove.

Fenris and I manage to grab everything, and we get her back to the Rogue room.

“Spread me on my bed, ladies,” Isabela coos, prompting Aveline to unceremoniously drop her onto the bed.

Bethany holds on a bit longer, and Isabela laughs. “Vallen! You need to develop a gentle, nurturing touch like Sunshine, here!”

Aveline sighs. “Bethany, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well… She _does_ it,” Isabela says, her tone implying… _Something_.

“Bela!” Bethany yells, giving me a flustered glance.

Isabela cackles. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

I have no idea what kind of face I’m making, but it’s not a good one, probably.

She’s kidding.

 _She’s kidding, Garrett_.

“Spare us,” Aveline says, monotonously. “Please.”

“Anything for you, Big Girl!” Isabela proclaims. She sits up on the bed and is about to do some kind of wacky flourish, but, instead, she yelps. “Ow! _Shit_! My head!”

“Are you okay?” Bethany’s immediately concerned and Isabela’s clutching her head.

“Yes,” Isabela says, very meekly… Wounded by her own hubris. 

“Where do you want…” Fenris holds up Isabela’s sash. “…This?”

I feel a little bad. He’s still holding Anders’ stuff, too.

Granted, I’m holding most of Isabela’s fallen costume accessories… And Miles 2.0.

“Anywhere’s fine, Fenny,” Isabela says. “Garrett, bring me my boot. I want my boot.”

“No,” I say, holding up her boot. “You’re too drunk for this boot.”

“But I want my _boot_!”

“No boot for you,” I say, throwing it in a corner of the room.

Isabela makes a very loud, dissatisfied noise.

“Garrett, Fenris,” Aveline says. “Could you _please_ get some crackers and Advil for this woman?”

“Don’t bother, Seb packed some.” Bethany points over to a small, closed suitcase on a well-made bed. “He said anyone could use it.” I guess Varric and Sebastian are sharing that bed while Isabela gets the other one to herself.

The image of Varric and Sebastian in the same bed is hilarious, somehow.

“Great, I’ll go get some ice,” Aveline says, striding back towards the door. “Bethany, you have bedside duty.”

“Gotcha!” Bethany does a little salute and Isabela smirks. I know she’s refraining from making _another_ crude joke. She’s still clutching at her head -- that hangover caught on _fast_.

“I’ll just, uh,” Fenris throws the sash on Varric and Sebastian’s bed. “Leave this here.”

“Perfect,” Bethany says as she reaches over for Sebastian’s suitcase. “Thanks for the help, you guys!”

“No problem,” I say. “Will you be alright by yourself? Should we wait until Aveline’s back?”

“Hey!” Isabela wails. “I’m here too!”

“Isabela, I love you, but you’re the reason why I’m asking,” I reply.

Isabela does a little thumbs up, then drops her arm back down. “Fair enough!”

“We’re fine, Gare,” Bethany replies while rummaging through the suitcase’s contents. “Seriously, I’ve taken care of you while you were sick. I think I can handle a hung-over Bela.”

I nod very quickly. “Okay. We’ll be going, then. Right, Fenris?”

The last thing I need right now are _Sick-Garrett_ anecdotes.

This likely comes as no surprise, but I’m absolutely miserable when I’m sick. Seriously. _Miserable_. I turn into a grumpy, crusty old man. It’s not pretty and no one needs to know the specifics.

“Right,” Fenris says, and I’m practically pushing him out the door… Out the door and away from Bethany and her arsenal of embarrassing family stories.

I close the door behind us, and Fenris peers up at me. “So… Anders’ room?”

“Yeah. The Mage Room.” I wince. “You know, dividing the rooms up by classes was a good idea, but I feel like a dork every time I talk about them like that.”

“It’s fitting, since you _are_ one,” Fenris says, already walking down the hall. “A dork, I mean.”

“That clarification was _not_ necessary,” I say, feigning offense.

“I’m just stating facts,” he replies, clearly unconvinced by my acting skills.  

I sigh very dramatically. “It’s almost as if we weren’t walking around in our costumes a few hours ago! Together! Holding – merchandise.” I managed to catch myself… I was about to bring up the hand-holding.

“Touché,” Fenris says. I guess he didn’t catch on. Phew.

I’m not sure why, but bringing it up right now doesn’t seem like a good idea. Mostly because, at this point, I’m starting to wonder if it actually happened. I want to tell someone about it, but…

Getting all excited over holding my crush’s hand? That’s pretty much _asking_ to be mocked. That aside, maybe I can rephrase it. Maybe I can say that I offered him some physical comfort when he was feeling a little shaky.

Okay, no. That’s too vague. I can practically sense the impending friend-fiction.

I don’t know.

I don’t want to look too much into it. Maybe it’d be best if I just kept it to myself.

I almost walk right into Fenris – we’re in front of the Mage Room. He gives me a little look that’s almost annoyed and I feel bad for spacing out.

 _Get it together, Garrett_.

I smile at him apologetically and knock on the door, since his hands are full.

“Coming!” Merrill calls out. A few seconds later, she opens the door – her hair is down. It’s all wavy from the style she had it in all day. Her face paint is also mostly off. I can still see some of the design, but it’s faded.

“Hey, Merrill,” I say, with a little wave.

“Garrett! Fenris! Hello!” She smiles up at us. She’s wearing pajamas already but, naturally, her elf ears are still on. “Goodness! Are those my bags? I left them with Anders and he’s not back yet!”

“Yeah. I’m helping him.” Fenris scrunches up his face. “It’s been… A strange night.”

At least he can admit it.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble! I just saw the Dalish booth and I had to buy all those lovely necklaces,” Merrill gushes, reaching out to get her bags from Fenris. “They dried out flowers and cast them in resin; isn’t that incredible? Oh! Before I forget – Garrett, please show me the store where you found that Mabari plush! He’s so delightful and soft!”

“Sure,” I say. “They had nugs, too.”

“ _Nugs_?!” Merrill repeats.

“Nugs.” I nod solemnly.

“I want five,” Merrill replies, also very solemn.

“I knew you would,” I say. “I’ll take you over to the booth tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!” She smiles. “Then I’ll leave you two at it, yeah? Sorry for the trouble. I hope Isabela’s doing okay. She got up on a table at the bar and did a fabulous Anders impression. I think Varric got it on video.”

“I’d like to see that,” Fenris says, and I can’t help but agree.

Merrill laughs. “Have a good night! See you tomorrow for Day Two!” Her hands are full of bags, so I close the door for her.

“Don’t forget to take the elf ears off,” I add as it shuts, which prompts a little _drat_! from inside.

“I suppose that’s handled, then?” Fenris asks, looking up at me.

“Yeah. Crisis averted.” Unless that Alistair _Coordination_ thing counts as a crisis. I kind of think it does, but… It could be worse.

“Okay. Let’s get back to that horrifying movie,” Fenris says.

“Are you invested in it, now, Fenris?” I tease.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he replies. “It’s all your fault.”

“I _live_ to indoctrinate the masses with my bad taste,” I say as we start walking back to our room. “My influence knows no bounds. My followers are privy to the _finest_ of shitty cult classics.”

“I suppose I enjoy following you, then,” Fenris replies.

I was the one who set up that joke, but… Hearing that reply still makes my heart beat faster.

All I can do is laugh awkwardly, but he smiles, so…

Tonight’s definitely not as bad as I thought it’d be.

~  
  


“Aveline?” I call out as I open the door to our room. The door’s unlocked, but there’s no reply.

Oops.

“Did you forget to lock the door?” Fenris asks, bemused.   

“I… Could’ve sworn I locked it,” I say. “Aren’t these doors supposed to lock automatically, anyway?” The Amerid Inn is a piece of work.

“It’s fine,” Fenris says. “Luckily, Aveline didn’t get here before us. She’d never let you hear the end of it.”

“True. She’s probably still helping Bethany with Isabela.” I head back over to my – err, _our_ – bed and flop down on it. “You know, she’s practically best friends with Isabela. She worries about her constantly.”

“I figured,” Fenris says. He sits next to me on the bed, then reaches over me… For the remote. He doesn’t un-pause the movie, though. He looks down at it, running a thumb over its buttons.

He seems nervous.

Crap. It must be time for damage control.

Alistair… You’re a minor character in my life. Why are you capable of such destruction?

I’m about to start blabbering about the movie when Fenris lets out a small sigh. “Hawke.”

I sit up. “Yeah?”

He bites his bottom lip and, wow, we’re very close to each other. I can feel his body heat… He’s so warm.

He doesn’t say anything, but he definitely wants to. My heartbeat is freakishly loud right now – it’s all I can hear. Should it be so loud? Should I be worried? More importantly, can he hear it?!

“A few days ago – at Merrill’s house – we were talking.” He looks at me, determined; oblivious to my little internal bout of self-consciousness. “You said how you want to get to _know_ me, and, of course, you… Learnt _some_ things tonight. Some stuff happened, and...” He shakes his head. “Fuck. I’m not making sense. I just know we’re heading _somewhere_ and I don’t want you getting pulled into something that’s –”

“It’s fine,” I say, almost reflexively.

He frowns. “It’s not fine.”

“It is.”

“It’s not –” He sighs, clearly annoyed. “Okay, no. Garrett, you don’t –”

“Fenris, seriously,” I say. I still feel like I’m talking too loudly. “There’s no rush. It’s okay.”

He winces at that. Crap.

“I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons for the warnings,” I say, fixing whatever I did wrong to the best of my ability (which is probably not all that great). “But regardless of what happened back then – with your ex, with the Fog Warriors, with all of that – you’re still… Fenris.”

That gets me a wry smile. “ _Fenris_ ,” he repeats. “Right.”

“And if we’re heading somewhere – wherever that is – it’s fine,” I say. “Because you’re… _You_. If you weren’t _you,_ we wouldn’t be here. Together.”

Fenris’ expression softens and some of the tension in the room dissipates.

“Regardless, my problems are not yours,” he says. He’s definitely not trying to be rude or abrasive.

“Still,” I reply, “I might be able to help with them.” I pause. “Or give you a few more.”

He grins at that. “Tempting.”

“I know, right?” Crap, my heartbeat’s getting fast again.

Fenris is still close.

Very close.

Potentially too close.

But, hilariously enough, I want him to be closer.

Does that make sense?

I don’t care.

I’m leaning down. He’s leaning up. His eyes are closed and –

The bathroom door flies open.

“ _Sorrysorryfucksorry_ ,” someone says.

Fenris’ eyes fly open. He whips around, towards the door, his entire body rigid. I’m already facing the door, so I manage to see a flash of blond hair and a brown robe and _feathers_.

 _Anders_.

He scuttles to the room’s door and is out in a flash.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Fenris growls, and I feel similarly.

“Um –”

Anders shrieks from the hallway.

“Anders, relax,” _There’s_ Aveline. “Stop screaming and running in the damn hallway.”

The door opens again and Aveline steps inside. She’s still in her costume.

“Isabela is asleep, so that’s good,” she announces, locking the door behind her.

“Ah,” I say. Fenris covers his face with his hands.

“Hangovers never stick to her,” Aveline continues, not knowing about… Anything. She goes up to her suitcase, taking it off her bed and resting it neatly on the floor. “I’ll bet she’ll be back to her ways tomorrow morning.”

I swallow. “That does sound like her.”

Aveline gives us a skeptical look. “Right.” She kneels down, grabbing her pajamas from the suitcase. She then glances at the television. “…You’re watching this? Seriously?”

Oh, right. We were watching a movie.

The screen is paused on a frame depicting the protagonist in mid-sentence.

“It’s a cult classic!” I exclaim, accepting the fact that the mood is now completely, utterly ruined. “You wanna watch with us?”

“After I shower, sure,” Aveline replies, standing back up. “You two can keep watching, though. I’ll catch the end.”

She’s definitely catching on to _something_. She shoots me a questioning look – likely because Fenris still hasn’t uncovered his face. I shrug because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t exactly exclaim that Fenris and I were about to do… Something.

 _Something_.

“Okay, have a nice shower,” I say.

Aveline nods, then goes into the bathroom.

“Why was Anders in our bathroom?” I wonder out loud as the bathroom lock clicks.

“Hawke,” Fenris says, “I’m incredibly frustrated right now.”

The small Isabela who lives in the back of my head instantly cracks an inappropriate joke, and I’m weak right now so I giggle. Naturally.

Fenris finally uncovers his face. He’s flushed, and he rolls his eyes.

“Let’s just watch the damn movie,” he says.

No!

I don’t want to keep watching the damn movie! I want to kiss him!

“Sounds good to me.” Why is my voice _betraying_ my thoughts?!

“Excellent,” Fenris says, curtly, as he presses the “play” button on the remote.

The characters are babbling about some bank-related subplot. I can’t focus on it.

Did I just mess up? I feel like I messed up.

But… Fenris is still a little red. He shifts up the bed and rests against its headboard… And I do, too. So… We’re side-by-side. Our shoulders are touching.

He doesn’t move away.

That has to count for _something_ , right?

~  
  


Getting ready for the second day was easier. I knew what to do, for the most part, so the costume process wasn’t as nerve-wracking. Of course, _other things_ were significantly more nerve-wracking.

I had what was probably the most awkward breakfast of my entire life.

Anyway, now I’m waiting for someone to help me put on my gauntlets. Aveline’s putting her boots on, and Fenris is battling his hair, which is sticking up all over the place. I decide to confront Anders… Via text, of course.  
  
  


**Garrett** (9:45a.m.):  
WHAT THE HELL WAS LAST NIGHT ABOUT???

 **Anders** (9:46a.m.):  
I’M SORRY.  
I MEAN IT.  
I DON’T ALWAYS MEAN IT BUT I DO THIS TIME.  
PLEASE DON’T TELL ANYONE, ESPECIALLY NOT VARRIC OR ISABELA.  
  
**Garrett** (9:46a.m.):  
HOW DID YOU EVEN GET INTO OUR ROOM

 **Anders** (9:46a.m.):  
I have my ways.

 **Garrett** (9:46a.m.):  
WHATEVER  
IT’S NOT LIKE IT MATTERS  
SINCE AVELINE WOULD’VE RUINED IT IF YOU DIDN’T!!!!  
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.  
I CAN’T BELIEVE IT.  
WE WERE SO CLOSE

 **Anders** (9:46a.m.):  
These things happen for a reason.

 **Garrett** (9:46a.m.):  
ANDERS

 **Anders** (9:46a.m.):  
I’M SORRY (AND, AGAIN, I MEAN IT).  
PLEASE STOP WITH THE EXCESSIVE CAPITALIZATION, IT’S MAKING ME JITTERY AND FEARFUL.  
Why didn’t you two just, I don’t know, pick up where you left off?

 **Garrett** (9:46a.m.):  
BECAUSE AVELINE WAS THERE AND WE WERE WATCHING A SHITTY MOVIE TOGETHER AND THE MOOD DIED AND HE FELL ASLEEP DURING THE MOVIE AND I HAD TO *SLEEP NEXT TO HIM*  
EXCEPT I WAS SO NERVOUS I BARELY SLEPT AND I HAD A TON OF SHITTY LINES FROM THE MOVIE STUCK IN MY HEAD  
  
**Anders** (9:46a.m.):  
I’ll make it up to you. I swear on Ser Pounce-a-Lot.  
That’s how sorry I am. I’m bringing my favourite cat into this.  
Look, I’m even going to offer you a pitiful emoticon:  :(  
See? That’s me right now.  
Anders, The Pitiful :( Man.

 **Garrett** (9:47a.m.):  
Fine, fine  
Like I said…………… Aveline would’ve ruined it anyway and it might’ve been even MORE disastrous……  
im holding you to your promise though

 **Anders** (9:47a.m.):  
Excellent!

 

I roll my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Aveline asks, glancing up from her boots.

“Anders is begging for my forgiveness,” I say. Fenris doesn’t look at me.

_I’m a fool._

“He forced you two to come down last night, didn’t he?” Aveline, oblivious to my sheer foolishness, fastens the last buckle on her boots.

“He did!” I exclaim. That’s a good cover-up. This doesn’t qualify as _telling_ on Anders.

Even though I should. I totally should.

But he _did_ swear on his favorite cat.

“At least you didn’t miss much,” Aveline says, standing up straight.

“True.” Fenris and I both say that at the same time, with the same amount of stiffness. Aveline cracks up, and Fenris smiles, too.

He doesn’t look at me, though.

 

 **Anders** (9:47a.m.):  
By the way, we’re heading down to the lobby now. Just so you know.  
  
**Garrett** (9:47a.m.):  
Yeahhhh we’ll be there soon too  
(assuming the elephant in the room doesn’t kill me)  
I just need my gauntlets

 **Anders** (9:47a.m.):  
Godspeed. 

 

 “They’re going down to the lobby now,” I say, stuffing my phone back into my pocket.

“Alright.” Aveline walks over to me. “Let’s get your gauntlets on, then.”

I groan. “My precious dexterity!”

“Stop whining,” Aveline says.

I grumble some more while she helps me fasten them. 

“I’m the only Warrior out of our group without gauntlets,” she says. “Funny, that.”

“The Grey Wardens have them,” I say.

“I meant in Wicked Grace, smartass.” Aveline flicks my forehead. “Let’s get a move on. Ready, Fenris?”

He nods.  I vaguely wonder when he put on _his_ gauntlets (maybe when I was showering?). I still can’t make eye contact with him. Ugh.

I’m looking down at the floor as we pile out of the room when something catches my eye.

It’s silver, gold and red, and attached to Fenris’ hip. Again.

He wouldn’t wear the shield if he was pissed at me. That’s a logical conclusion, I think.

I know what I have to do.

The only question is _how_. Also when, and _where_. Honestly, there’s a lot of questions and more seem to be popping up with each passing minute.

Aveline locks the door behind us. Fenris finally looks at me, and I look at him. He smiles and I reflexively feel one tug at my lips, too.

As we make our way down the lobby, Aveline’s talking about a bunch of stuff, but, honestly? I’m not paying attention, because…

I know what I have to do.

~  
  


“Guys!” I hold up a plastic bag, triumphantly. “I bought _water_!”

Everyone stares back at me. We’re back in the Convention hall. All of us are costumed up and ready for Day Two... Our weapon props were already in the truck.

“Did you bulk-buy water bottles, Hawke?” Varric grins.

“Yes!” I shake the bag. “Hydration is important!” Plus, the water bottles are pretty small. They’re convenient like that.

“Very true,” Fenris says. He started talking to me like normal once we got in the truck, thank goodness.

“See? Fenris supports me,” I say, a bit too happily. “That’s why he gets the first one.” I take a water bottle out and hand it to him. He takes it and is _clearly_ amused.

“Thanks, water boy,” he says, and everyone laughs.

“You can have your precious _bottled water_ ,” Isabela says. She raises a flask – it’s bronze in colour with a fancy ship engraved on the front. “I have something far better.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bethany chuckles.

“It’s not a good idea,” Isabela announces. “It’s an excellent one!” She takes a swig.

“Also likely an _illegal_ one,” Aveline mutters.

“Technicalities,” Isabela states. She perks up. “Ooh! Looks like our warden friends are here!”

She’s right – the Grey Wardens have made their appearance. They look so impressive as a group… People bombard them for photograph requests the _second_ they walk inside.

Carver’s with them, too… And, so is –

“Sebastian!” Merrill points at him. “Sebastian’s with them!”

Varric and Isabela share a _look_. Anders has a particularly conniving expression.

Without another word, Isabela dashes over to the group. Varric, Merrill and Anders follow close behind her.

Aveline sighs and pinches her nose bridge. “I suppose I should at least _try_ to prevent a _scene_ from occurring.”

“Probably,” Fenris says with a nod.

“Christ,” she mutters. “Fenris, come with me. I need at least _one_ other voice of reason.”

“I’m a voice of reason?” Fenris asks, dryly, and Aveline snorts.

“Comparatively,” she says, and Fenris grins at that. The two of them walk off, talking to each other.

I’m about to head over, too, when I feel a hand gently touch my shoulder. For a second I think it’s Fenris’ hand, but when I check, Bethany’s staring up at me.

“Gare,” she says, “can I have a bottle of water?”

“Sure! Of course!” I grab one from the plastic bag, handing it to her.

She smiles. “Thanks! I’m almost certain that Bela’s going to get dehydrated all over again.”

Huh. She’s looking out for Isabela.

“Are you taking over Aveline’s job?” I joke as she stuffs the water bottle in her pouch.

“Apparently!” She says, going along with it and shoving me lightly. “Aveline’s hands are full, you know?”

“So generous, Bethany.” I laugh.

“It’s a Hawke thing, right?”

…What? “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. Listen, I’m a Grey Warden too and I wanna be in some pictures, dammit. Come on!”

She grabs onto my gauntleted hand, pulling me along.

~  
  


We hang out with the Wardens for a few minutes. A lot of photos are taken… _A lot_. This includes several selfies – most of them involving Zevran. Eventually Amell has to dash off to get ready for a panel she’s running. Cousland, Zevran and Nathaniel go with her – for “moral support” and to “lift heavy things” – and Alistair ends up dragging a protesting Carver away somewhere. He doesn’t specify where. I’d be worried, but Alistair is an active guy. Plus, it’s not like Carver’s a stranger to his best friend’s whims.

Sebastian stays with us, though. Much to pretty much _everyone’s_ delight, because it gives them an opportunity to _pounce_.

By now, I’m pretty sure it’s clear that the members of Wicked Grace enjoy verbally pouncing on each other. It’s like our shared hobby.

“You didn’t come back to the room last night!” Isabela throws her arm around Sebastian. “You sly dog, you!”

“Choir Boy’s getting _busy_ ,” Varric adds.

“Did you stay with Nathaniel?” Merrill asks. “Did you see his sextant collection?!”

Isabela, Varric and Anders howl with laughter. They’re beacons of maturity, I know… I’m not one to talk, though. I have to bite my lip to hold back my own laugh. Fenris quirks an eyebrow at me, and a tiny giggle escapes. Whoops.

Sebastian smiles. “Alas, the sextant collection was not in his hotel room.”

“Shoot.” Merrill pouts, folding her arms.

“Is that even allowed?!” Anders wipes a tear from his eye – he’s laughing _so_ _hard_. “You and Nathaniel –“

“I’m allowed to have friends, Anders,” Sebastian retorts, pleasantly.

“Right. _Friends_ ,” Anders echoes.

“That’s what they call it these days, Blondie,” Varric says.

Bethany lightly whacks the back of their respective heads.

“Ow,” Varric says, but he’s grinning.

“Of _course_ she lets Isabela get away with it,” Anders adds, pouting.

“What, are you jealous now, Blondie?” Bethany says, sharply.

There’s a small pause.

“No, ma’am,” Anders finally says, very meekly. Isabela is incredibly satisfied.

“Good.” Bethany folds her arms. “I want to go to the Dealers' room. Let’s go, guys.”

“Sounds good!” Isabela says. Her arm is still around Sebastian’s shoulders. “Seb, we’re not _that_ different, you and me.”

Sebastian is at a loss for words. I don’t blame him.

Anyway, teasing aside, I doubt he was up to anything. I mean, he was probably just off praying somewhere.

Maybe.

Anyway, we start making our way towards the Dealers' room. Isabela is chattering about a body pillow that she wants to buy when Aveline suddenly goes _completely_ rigid.

She was leading us. Merrill almost crashes into her.

“You okay there, Big Girl?” Isabela calls out.

Aveline doesn’t reply. She’s slack-jawed and staring straight ahead, at some guy.

He’s not dressed up as anything. He’s wearing khaki pants and a plain blue shirt... Also, alarmingly white sneakers. His beard is kind of weird, but his sideburns are freakishly impressive.

“Are you alright?” Merrill’s genuinely concerned. Aveline doesn’t reply.

The man notices Aveline and clearly recognizes her. He smiles and waves – Aveline stiffly raises her hand, as if to wave back.

“Who is that?” I ask her.

She turns to face me slowly – almost robotically.

“Donnic.”

~  
  


“Who’s Donnic?!” Isabela has never looked more intimidating. “Garrett, tell me!”

“Relax, Bela.” Bethany’s trying to soothe her. It’s ineffective.

Aveline hurried over to Donnic. They’re talking together, away from us. We’re just… Waiting for her. Well, “waiting for her” is one way to put it. I’m being interrogated.

“He’s her friend,” I squeak. “From the station.”

“ _Her friend_?” Isabela repeats, unconvinced.

“‘ _Friend_ ’ is one hell of a complex word,” Varric muses. He has a leather-bound notebook open and he’s scribbling away at its pages.

“Friend-fiction again?” Anders asks – Varric winks in lieu of a reply. _Ugh_ …

“Seriously, he’s her friend.” I’ve been sworn to secrecy! I’ve come so far! “He helped her set up a bed, once.”

“ _He helped her set up a bed_?”

“Stop repeating my _words_ , Isabela!” I’m slowly cracking. I have to be strong. _Be strong for Aveline_!

“Is that Aveline’s boyfriend?” Merrill asks, and Isabela makes a loud gurgling noise. She covers her face with her hands.

“I should have known!” She hollers.

Aveline glares in our direction. She’s bright pink. However, Donnic doesn’t notice the screaming woman in a pirate costume.

“No way,” I say. “They’re not dating.” That’s not a lie.

Isabela looks up at me and says nothing.

“Bela, you’re going to make Garrett cry,” Bethany says.

“Garrett Malcolm Hawke, if you’re lying to me –”

“I swear, there’s no dating going on behind your back, Isabela,” I say.

“Speak for yourself,” Anders mutters under his breath.

“What?” Isabela, Bethany, Varric, Sebastian, Merrill, Fenris and I ask, in unison, albeit with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” Anders says. “I was _joking_.”

Isabela looks like she’s about to pass out. Merrill’s delighted and Varric’s getting smugger by the second.

As for Fenris, he looks like he just swallowed something bitter. Same with Sebastian.

Bethany and I glance at each other.

Luckily, Aveline’s walking back over to us. She’s still bright pink.

“Hi,” she says, flatly.

“Aveline Vallen,” Isabela says, slowly. “What the fuck?”

“He’s a co-worker,” Aveline states. “I told him about the Convention. Said he might enjoy it. There’s lots of sights to see.”

“Does he want to hang out with you?” Merrill asks, smiling sweetly. “I think he should come along with us.”

“No,” Aveline says, quickly. “God. No. He’s just here. On his own. Not with me. Not _for_ me. No. Not in the slightest. Not to see me.”

“She’s speaking in nonsensical phrases,” Isabela says, incredulously. “Holy _fuck_ , Aveline has the hots for someone. Aveline Vallen –”

Aveline goes from pink to red. “Shut it, Isabela!”

“He’s just standing there…” Sebastian says. Like true masters of stealth, we all turn to look at Donnic. Aveline hisses for us to stop but, of course, none of us listen.

He really is just standing there – right in front of this huge promotional poster for the next DLC patch. Luckily, he’s not looking at us. He’s sipping at a water bottle (See? Hydration!), staring at a large crowd of people in Darkspawn costumes.

One of the Darkspawn is holding a sign asking for “Free Hugs.” There’s always that one guy… Always.

“He looks lost,” Fenris says. “You should stay with him, Vallen.”

Aveline splutters. “He’s an adult!”

“An adult with no experience in this sort of environment,” I say. “He definitely came to see you.”

She gives me a dirty look. “Traitor.”

Before I can start defending myself, Isabela shrieks. “There! There! I _knew_ Garrett was in on this!” She swats at me. “You traitor!”

“I can’t be traitorous to both of you at the same time!” I wail, trying to defend my precious armor from Isabela’s attacks.

“You didn’t tell them?” Aveline asks, slowly.

I shake my head. “Of course not!”

“He didn’t.” Fenris! My true savior! “We figured it out.”

“How?” Aveline frowns.

“How could we _not_?” Anders replies. “Seriously, you got all red, and you were gaping at him, and –”

“Stop.” Aveline sighs. “Just…”

“Okay.” Bethany claps her hands together. “Alright. I know what to do.”

“We’re going to stop,” Aveline says, glumly.

 “No. You’re going to hang out with him, Aveline,” Bethany says. “I’ll come with you.”

“Hey!” Isabela looks hurt. “I want to come, too.”

“Only if you don’t ruin this for her,” Bethany says, defiantly. “That means _no_ excessively explicit jokes while Donnic’s around.” 

Isabela pouts.

“I mean it, Bela,” Bethany says. “Look at him. He’s so… Vanilla. You’ll scare him away.”

“Hey!” Aveline protests – that gets Isabela guffawing.

“Fine, fine!” Isabela says. “You got it, Sunshine.”

“And what about the rest of us?” I ask.

Bethany shrugs. “You can do whatever. Do any of you wanna come with us?”

“Not really,” I admit. I’m awkward with this sort of stuff. So is Aveline. Put us together, and… We’ll probably end up discussing the weather for an hour while Donnic awkwardly clutches his water bottle.

“There’s a panel I have to catch,” Anders says. “The one Grand Enchanter is hosting, actually.”

“Same here,” Sebastian says. “I promised Amell I’d see it.”

“I was planning on looking at some art,” Merrill adds. “But if you want me to come, I can!”

“It’s fine.” Bethany has become the de facto leader of Aveline’s Love Life, apparently. “What about you, Fenris, Varric?”

“As much as it pains me, I have some stuff to do today,” Varric says. “Don’t think I can commit to this particular development. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’ll pass, too,” Fenris says. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

“Gotcha.” Bethany says. “Bela and I can handle this, then. It’s best to have a small group for this sort of stuff, anyway.”

“Damn right.” Isabela puffs out her chest.

“Get me some good material, Rivaini,” Varric says.

“Varric!” Aveline snaps, blushing all over again.

“Will do, Tethras,” Isabela replies, ignoring her. “Let’s go, Big Girl.”

I’ve never seen Aveline look so _helpless_. Not even annoyed. Just… Helpless. Something about this entire situation is vaguely comforting, but I’m not exactly sure why. “Are you… Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Bethany grabs onto her arm. “Come on!”

Isabela grabs onto her other arm and, cackling, they lead her back over to Donnic. Donnic looks away from the Darkspawn horde and sees them… He seems a little taken aback, but he smiles.

Varric takes his camera out of his bag and snaps a photo.

“Playing the paparazzi today, Varric?” Anders smirks.

“Always,” Varric replies smoothly. “Now – Daisy, you wanted to head over to the Artist Alley?”

“Yes!” Merrill grips her staff. “And later on I want to buy a nug.” She turns to me. “Garrett, please show me the nugs.”

“It’d be my honor,” I say.

“Right, well, until then – it’s almost time for the panel,” Anders says. “I’m gonna go over there.”

“Good thinking!” Sebastian smiles.

“I’ll go, too,” Fenris says.

I don’t know why that shocks me so much, but it does. “Are you sure, Fenris?”

He looks up at me, quizzical. “Yeah.”

It’s been a while since we all played the MMO together – I almost forgot that Fenris is super into it.

“Alright. I guess I’ll go, too, then,” I say. Fenris and I browsed the Artist Alley yesterday – I want to visit it again today, but it’s not too high on my list of priorities.

“Who’re you trying to impress, Garrett?” Anders teases, and I shoot him a glare.

“You’re in no position to mock me,” I remind him. His smile drops and he immediately gets all sheepish. _Good_. “And I’m going so I can support Amell. You know, my _cousin_.”

“That’s very good of you,” Sebastian says, politely, while Anders snorts.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “Let’s all meet up again later, then.”

“Sounds good!” Merrill chirps. “Let’s go, Varric!”

Varric snaps a quick photo of us – I’m almost certain that I was in mid-blink for it. How attractive. “See you.”

The two of them leave, finally making their way to the Dealers' room. Anders, Sebastian and I set off for the panel room.

I’m a little nervous, to be honest. I’ve never been into the whole hardcore gaming scene and this panel is definitely geared towards that particular audience. I guess I can ask Fenris to explain stuff to me later on. I’m a “filthy casual,” it’s true.

I just have to try not to look _too_ bored.

~  
  


My attempt to not look bored fails within the first fifteen minutes.

Amell looks impressive -- she’s sitting at a long table, on a stage. It’s decorated in silver and blue, matching her grey warden outfit. A fancy grey warden helmet’s on the table, too, along with another helmet that looks all… Dragon-like. Apparently it’s part of some new armor set that comes with the Deluxe Edition of the DLC.

The rest of the room is pretty much just chairs for the audience. They’re cheap plastic chairs – the kind that seem to get increasingly more painful to sit on as time passes.

Amell’s talking about new classes and new cross-class abilities and new _dungeons_. The level cap’s going up, too. I can see a lot of level-grinding in Wicked Grace’s future.

A lot of it is hypothetically interesting, but everyone seems so focused. I feel like if I even mutter a comment under my breath I’ll get thrown out of the thing.

So I just zone out while Amell gestures at a PowerPoint depicting a new area. It’s near the ocean, apparently, which means that Massive Head Trauma Bay is going to have some competition for _Most Miserable Beach-like Environment Ever_.

I look over to Fenris. His brow is knit in concentration, and he’s sitting very still, as if committing virtually everything about this panel to memory. Anders has an incredibly similar expression. Something about that is hilariously ironic to me – I have to stifle a laugh.

Meanwhile, Sebastian is very calm and he has his default _serene_ smile. Someone wearing an ornate mask and a flowing silver dress is trying to take a photo of him on their phone. I’m not sure if they notice me or not (because of the mask), but I think they do… They slowly lower the phone and pretend to be paying attention to Amell.

I squirm around some more, checking out some other costumes. Someone’s wearing a nug onesie. They’re sitting next to someone wearing a dragon onesie. I’m so incredibly jealous. I wonder if they made those themselves – 

Fenris raises an eyebrow at me.

I’m attracting attention to myself. Oops. I raise an eyebrow back at _him_ and he smiles. It’s tiny and cute and I want to talk to him, but, alas. The panel.

It goes on and on. I feel like my soul is slowly departing from my body.

Amell’s still going strong, though. I’m jealous. I’m so sure that she _somehow_ inherited all of my gaming prowess.

I try to stay awake by examining my sword prop. Some of the paint is flaking off… Darn.

Anyway, eventually, the Q&A session opens up. I’m way too zoned out to pay attention – I feel like I’m back in college, to be honest – but I can vaguely hear Anders and Amell engaging in one of their “lore discussions.” It ends quicker than their little bout at the bar, thank goodness.

Some other people ask some other questions. I have no idea how Amell manages to keep her cool and skillfully answer all of them, but she does. If I was in her position I’d probably freak out and start babbling about dragons.

“Okay, we’re all out of time,” she says, after answering a question about a new dungeon. “Thanks for your time, everyone. Remember to follow our official Twitter for more information about the new patch. Have a good one!”

The buzz of conversation _finally_ fills the room as everyone in the audience gets ready to leave. Amell dashes backstage. I wonder if Cousland, Zevran and Nathaniel are back there.

“I can’t believe there’re no plans to increase magic’s damage output,” Anders is ranting. “This is some bullshit!”

“Why would there be?” Fenris retorts, glaring.

“Mages need to be buffed,” Anders says. “Listen, it makes no sense that their damage output is so weak, given lore –”

“ _Lore_? Please,” Fenris scoffs. “If anything, they should be nerfed. Certain mage builds can break the fucking game.”

“What?! Name _one_.”

“Um, _blood magic_?” Fenris rolls his eyes.

“He has a point, there,” Sebastian chimes in.

“No! He doesn’t!” Anders snaps. “Blood magic doesn’t count! Also, you were from Chant of Light. Your bias is showing.”

“How does it not count?!” Fenris presses on.

“It just _doesn’t_! Everyone knows it’s OP. There’s other branches –”

They go on about skill points and skill point allocations. I knew this panel was out of my league. I knew it.

“Garrett!” Someone’s calling my name. I look back up to the stage – Zevran’s peeking out from behind a curtain.

“Zev?”

“Come here,” he says. “Bring _them_ , too!” He disappears behind the curtain again.

“That wasn’t cryptic at all,” I say, to no one in particular, as I pick up my bag of water bottles.

“Hm?” Fenris hears me, though.

“Zevran’s calling us backstage,” I say.

“Why?” Anders asks.

“I have no idea,” I reply. “Let’s go, though.”

We shuffle through the crowd and the security guarding the backstage entrance lets go through. I guess he was expecting us. That makes me feel kind of important…

Backstage isn’t fancy. It’s just a normal sitting room. Some members of the Convention staff are scrambling around, trying to set up stuff up for the next panel. Apparently, Amell’s not involved with it – she’s sitting on the floor, chugging coffee. Nathaniel is leaning against a wall, texting, and Cousland’s passed out on a couch. Zevran’s sitting on top of him, drinking out of a flask.

“That flask matches Isabela’s,” I blurt out.

“Such an excellent observation, Gare.” Zevran says. “It was a _wonderful_ birthday present from the _wonderful_ Isabela.”

Oh.

“And hello to you, too,” he adds. Oops. “I see that you found the water kiosk.”

I hold the plastic bag up – triumphantly, once more.

“Is something wrong?” Anders asks. He’s currently inspecting the dragon helmet prop…

“Nah. There’s just going to be a costume contest,” Amell pipes up. “We were wondering if Sebastian could help us out, since he’s so known in the community.”

“I’d love to help you,” Sebastian says, very sincerely. “What would it entail?”

Amell takes a few more gulps of the coffee in her mug. “Sorry,” she says. “Busy day, need that energy. Um. You’d be a special guest judge. There’s four judges so far – including Nathaniel and I – but we thought it’d be fun if we added a popular cosplayer to the lineup.”

“We’ll pay you, of course,” Nathaniel says.

Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t need compensation. It sounds like fun.”  

“A word of advice, my dear boy,” Zevran interjects. “Never deny money when it is offered to you. _Never_.”

Sebastian laughs. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“Great!” Amell beams. “Nathaniel, you’re a genius.”

Nathaniel makes a noncommittal little grunt and looks back down at his phone. He seems embarrassed, for some reason.

“You were the first person he suggested, you know!” Amell giggles as she stands up.

Okay, that’s probably the reason. Fenris said that Nathaniel has a crush on Sebastian, so… Is Amell _wingman-ing_?

“I’m very flattered,” Sebastian says, smiling. “Thank you, Nate.”

 _Nate_!

“It’s nothing,” Nathaniel replies. He’s definitely embarrassed. No one texts that fast. _No one_. He can’t be typing actual words.

Amell is too skillful.

If she was in charge of the Operation, I’d probably be dating Fenris by now.

Crap.

Not a good time to think about that. Not at all.

I sigh.

Anders gives me a look. A _what-are-you-doing_ look.

It’s warranted.

_What are you doing, Garrett?_

“I was going to volunteer myself for this _judge_ role,” Zevran says, oblivious to my inner turmoil and regrets over what could have been. “However, I have lost most of my armor.”

It’s true. He’s wearing significantly less belts than he was yesterday.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I ask.

“I am not quite sure,” Zevran admits. “But I am told that it is normal, so…” He shrugs.

Cousland makes a noise in his sleep. It’s like this low growl and, frankly, it scares me.

“Someone wake Cousland up,” Amell says. “We gotta get going. The next event’s starting soon, and I wanna be _far_ away when that happens.”

“Again: Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Fenris answers me, with a sly little smirk.

“It’s something to do with speed dating,” Amell states. “Which is definitely a whole lot of fun, but it’s not exactly my cup of tea.”

“Amell has been through a lot,” Zevran says.

“Slander, Zev,” Amell says. “ _Slander_.”

“She met her last ex at a speed-dating event,” Zevran continues. Evilly.

“ _Zev_!” Amell frowns. “Cease.”

“He’s someone you all know, actually.” Zevran does not cease. Also, I’m alarmed.

Who…?

“I’ll throw coffee on you,” Amell warns, shaking her mug menacingly, and he laughs. “Wake your darn husband up.”

Good. The husband joke agenda is spreading.

“Everyone keeps calling me that,” a deep voice states. Cousland sits up, and Zevran slides off him, laughing. Apparently, he was already awake.

“Very true,” Zevran says, still cackling. “It happens every day.”

“Hm,” Cousland says, rubbing at his eyes. “We must be missing something.”

“Clearly,” Zevran purrs. Darn, I was all excited about the husband joke agenda, but it seems like Zevran has developed an immunity. I never thought I’d see the day…

“Okay, no, stop.” Amell puts her mug down on the coffee table. “We have to go.” 

Zevran pouts. “I can assure you, my dear, that Couscous and I were _going_ somewhere –”

“You’re shameless,” Amell says. “And I adore that, but… Chop-chop.”

Cousland growls some more as he stands up, but he doesn’t seem angry. I guess those are just ambient Cousland noises. Nathaniel puts his phone away and walks over to us, too.

We all hurry out of the panel room. A crowd has gathered by its doors, eager to get on with their speed dating, but security lets us through when Amell flashes them her staff badge. People are taking lots of photos as we walk out – they might think we’re important. Alas, I’m a simple carpenter…

Amell’s group – with Sebastian in tow – end up going right over to the room that the contest’s being held in.

So… Anders, Fenris and I are free to do whatever we want – namely, attempt to regroup with everyone else.

“I wonder how Aveline’s doing,” I say as we awkwardly avoid striding right through someone’s hallway photoshoot (we end up walking around them, instead).

“Never thought she’d get over her ex,” Anders mutters. “It’s been years.”

“Recovery can take time,” Fenris says, quietly.

“Very true,” Anders replies.

“She’s hopeless at romantic stuff,” I blurt out, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “She got him copper marigolds.”

There’s a pause.

Fenris looks up at me.

“What the fuck is a copper marigold?”

 

~  


“That person,” I say, “is a dragon.”

“Yes, Hawke.” Fenris is clearly amused. “They are.”

They’re tall, even taller than I am. And they’re this cool dark red colour and they have _scales_ and a _tail_ and oh my gosh they’re a dragon.

“Fenris,” I say. “Fenris!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance. “I don’t suppose you want a photo with the dragon?”

“I want one!” I exclaim. “Come on!”

We’re wandering around the Dealers' room and Fenris is on camera duty right now. He keeps taking what I assume are really artistic cameo shots, but… I need a cheesy photo with the dragon, okay?

It has been established that I fucking love dragons.

So, I get my photo taken with the magnificent dragon.

Fenris shows it to me afterwards. I look like an excitable child. Well, as child-like as a bearded twenty-seven year old can look.

“I’m so glad you saw the dragon, Garrett!” Merrill exclaims. “I texted you when I saw them earlier, you know.”

“I haven’t been checking my phone,” I say, sadly. The curse of gauntlets and having to carry around a sword… Not to mention the water bottle bag. I’m _loaded_ today. Granted, we’ve been wandering around the Dealers' room for a few hours and the water bottle bag is slowly becoming lighter and lighter. Merrill’s had, like, three of them, all on her own. It’s incredible.

She’s also bought an _incredible_ amount of art. Much like yesterday, she’s having Carver carry it all for her. Apparently they’ve been hanging out for a while… I have no idea where Alistair is, or what he’s up to.

“It’s fine, I understand!” Merrill replies. “Oh, but listen! There was this one artist – he draws lots of nugs, with _wings_! Flying nugs!” She waves her arms around.

“She bought five prints from him,” Carver adds, giddily.

“I needed them,” Merrill says. “Besides, Varric always buys more stuff.”

“Varric’s a mogul of the convention scene, apparently,” I say. I’ve barely seen him! It’s okay, though. He’s a social butterfly, and social butterflies tend to… _Flutter_.

“What about Varric, now?” He also tends to magically appear when you mention his name.

“Varric!” Merrill runs over to him, pulling him into a hug. “Did you see the –”

“The flying nugs?” Varric chuckles. “Absolutely, Daisy.”

Merrill giggles. “Speaking of which!” She turns on her heel, back towards me. “Garrett! You need to show me the nug plushes right now!”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “Let’s get going, then. Are you ready, Fenris?”

Fenris lowers the camera – was he taking a photo of me?! I was _talking,_ I probably look like a fool, oh my god –

“Yeah,” he says.

Merrill keeps on chattering about nugs as we walk over. I’m leading, and… If there’s one thing I know about crowds, it’s that they make me _painfully_ aware of how tall I am. Ugh. At least Fenris is walking beside me, though he keeps taking more random photos.

An elf guy stares up at me in wonder as he passes by. In my defense, he’s definitely shorter than the average person…

“—And nug hands! Those are interesting!” Merrill just keeps going. “Very tiny, with long, thin fingers.”

“You know what you like, don’t you?” Carver comments.

“Yes, I do!” Merrill replies.

She stops talking about nugs, though. I wonder if Carver made her feel self-conscious. That’s impossible; Merrill never feels weird about what she likes. If Carver made her feel bad I’ll blast the most obnoxious pop music on the ride back home, I swear. The rest of the guild (and Bethany) would understand.

“Did you mean something dirty, when you said that?” Merrill asks, suddenly, and I almost trip over my boots.

“What?!” Carver splutters. “No! It wasn’t – No. I was just, uh…”

“Right, okay!” Merrill seems appeased. “I miss a lot of dirty things, you know? Everyone always says so, and sometimes I wouldn’t mind hearing them.”

I look over my shoulder to shoot Carver a glare. He notices and it makes him even more flustered.

“We’ll fill you in next time, Daisy,” Varric says, since Carver’s just making a bunch of nonsensical noises and I’m _definitely_ not throwing him a bone. “I’m sure it’d be Rivaini’s pleasure.”

“Very true,” Merrill hums. “I’m glad I have such good friends.”

Meanwhile, Carver’s “um” count is up to at least twenty.

Oh, Carver.

We end up finding the stall pretty quickly. Merrill buys two nugs plushes, but decides against the Mabari one, since I bought Miles 2.0 yesterday. She ends up holding onto the nugs rather than making Carver carry more bags.

“I need to name them,” she says.

We end up heading over to the food court, debating about various nug names over some horrifyingly greasy slices of pizza.

My suggestions of “Fluffy” and “Bob” were shot down almost instantly (as Anders said, “nugs don’t even have fluff, what the hell, Garrett”). Anders kept suggesting various character names, and Varric’s were all, disturbingly enough, related to food.

I mean, ‘Nugget’ is a pretty charming name, but the morbidity factor is _definitely_ something to consider.

All of Fenris’ were literature references, which was cool, but Merrill lumped those in with Anders’ “nerd culture” references, so they didn’t make the cut.

And, as for Carver… His suggestions just sucked.

Really.

Trust me on this. They sucked.

In the end, Merrill settled on naming them McGoogles and Pernicious C, respectively. She came up with those herself. We had no input at all.

It kind of makes me want to rename Miles 2.0 to something fancy, but it’s too late. The name’s already stuck.

After lunch, we meet up with the Grey Wardens, Sebastian and Zevran. The costume contest went well – apparently one contestant almost passed out when she learnt that Sebastian was on the judge panel (ironically enough, she ended up winning). We end up just milling around, passing Varric’s camera around so we can take photos of pretty much everyone and everything.

I’m not looking at the full album yet, though. That’s strictly for coping with Post-Convention Sadness. I’m always a pure entity of suffering after conventions, it’s terrible.

Some members of our group go to some more panels – shorter ones than Amell’s – but I just float around with whoever’s sitting out.

My favorite part of conventions is always just hanging out with people in the hallways.

Amell’s particularly excited about having free time. People keep talking to her, so she might as well be on the clock – but she’s definitely enjoying herself. 

At one point, Cousland lifts her up on his shoulders. It attracts a huge crowd… Apparently they’ve done this before. They call it a _battle formation_. Nathaniel’s laughing his ass off and Zevran’s taking tons of photos.

It’s during this grand display that I remember Aveline… And, by extension, Donnic.

They’re in the hands of Isabela and my little sister.

Holy shit.

Poor Aveline.

I seriously should try to find her.

I balance my sword against my chest (good thing it’s not real, right?), then start shimmying around in an attempt to get to my phone.

My gauntlet makes a suspicious cracking noise.

I freeze in place.

“Hawke?” Varric calls out. “You finally at your limit? Do you need to sit down?”

“ _My gauntlet_ ,” I whisper.

He walks over to me. “Your what, now?”

“My gaunt – ”

There’s another crack, and then the hand part of my gauntlet just slides right off my hand.

I mean, I’m wearing a glove under it.

So that’s cool.

But.

The armor part?

It’s on the floor. The grimy convention floor.

“Shit,” Fenris says.

“And there we have it,” Anders murmurs grimly. “The first fatality.”

“Oh my _god_.” I can’t believe this. _My gauntlet_! I’m frozen in place. I’m just… Staring down at my gauntlet.

Merrill wordlessly bends over to pick it up. She then puts it in my water bottle bag.

“Thank you,” I say, though I’m still staring at the spot it fell down on.

“It’s quite alright,” she says. “Just needs some hot glue later, that’s all.”

This is awful and the worst.

Varric pats my back reassuringly. “Fenris, think you can lead our fallen Champion over to a seat?”

“Naturally,” Fenris replies, gently touching my wrist.

My wrist, which is now lacking in shiny, silver armor.

As he pulls me along, I hear Sebastian ask why I look like I’m about to start openly weeping.

Fenris and I find a small bench next to a vending machine.

A very familiar vending machine.

“Oh my god,” I say, as he sits next to me. “This is the vending machine I got stuck in.”

Fenris snorts. He covers his mouth with a (gauntleted!) hand, but another snort escapes, and then – of course – he’s laughing.

“I blame this hellish snack-producer,” I say, as he laughs. “This is what started wearing down my fine gauntlet. My workmanship… Ruined.”

Still, at least my hand’s free, now. I place the water-bottle-and-broken-gauntlet-bag next to me, then prop my sword up by it.

“Like Merrill said: it’s nothing some glue can’t fix,” Fenris states, his laughter subsiding. “I don’t think I’ll wear my costume tomorrow. Last day and all.”

“Crap, that’s right! Tomorrow’s Sunday.” The final day of the Convention.

“Mm-hm,” Fenris hums.

The time went by so fast! We still have the long trip back, but… Something tells me the post-convention sadness is going to be even worse than it usually is.

I refuse to think about that, though. I _refuse_. “I wonder how Aveline’s doing,” I say, instead.

“Think we should look for her?”

“Nah, Isabela and Bethany might get pissed off.” I stick my free hand into my pocket. “However – I can text her.”

“Ah, minimizing the chance of them throttling you,” Fenris notes. “Smart.”

“I know, right?” I unlock my phone. “I’m a tactful sort of guy.”

“Evidently,” Fenris says, a little dryly.

I check my messages.  


**Merrill** (11:45a.m.):  
GARRETT,  ! !!!!  
THERE IS A DRAGORN!!! :^OOO  
THEY’RE LARGE AND GREEN.  


**Merrill** (11:45a.m.):  
* Dragon

  
**Merrill** (11:59a.m.):  
Garrett,  
Do you know whats very lovely?  
Nugs!!! Flying nugs!!!! :^DDDD

  
Right, Merrill did say she was texting me, earlier. I’m so glad that she saw the dragon cosplayer and instantly thought about me. That’s the highest compliment I could ever receive.

  
**Aveline** (12:56p.m.):  
Is there any chance you have your phone on you.  
Any at all.

 **Aveline** (1:03p.m.):  
Goddammit, Hawke.

 

“Oh, shit,” I mutter. “Aveline was texting me earlier.”

 “Is she okay?”

“Hang on…”  


**Garrett** (3:21p.m.):  
HELLO I AM HERE NOW  
Are you okay????? Is Donnic okay?

  
“Okay, I asked her,” I say. “Now we wait for a reply, I guess.”

“Assuming she isn’t _preoccupied_ ,” Fenris states, mischievously.

I gape at him. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“Depends.” He tilts his head coyly. “What do you think?”

I feel something twist in my stomach

“The,” I say, intelligently.

“The?” Fenris repeats.

“The –” Aerosmith is suddenly playing. I look down at my phone.

**[Incoming Call – Aveline Vallen]**

“Hey!” I answer it instead of _salvaging_ my conversation with Fenris… He looks very amused, though. “Aveline?”

“Hawke,” Aveline says. “I’m doomed.”

“What’s up?” I say. I turn on speaker phone so Fenris can hear what’s going on, too. It’s noisy around us, so it’s not like anyone’ll eavesdrop.

“Well. I’m hiding in the bathroom right now,” Aveline says. “So, if that’s indicative of anything…”

I wince, and Fenris is appropriately sympathetic.

“That bad?”

“I don’t know,” Aveline says, slowly. “I… I bought him a dagger.”

“True romance,” Fenris comments.

“Am I on speaker phone?” Aveline snaps, and Fenris mouths a small “oops.”

“Yes, but it’s fine. No one’s around except Fenris,” I say. “And random convention-attendees who don’t know you.”

Aveline groans. “Fuck it. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t tell if he’s having a good time or not. And Isabela told him that he should go to the Hanged Man, later, and he said he will, and I _know_ she’s going to force me to go too and I don’t know what to _do_.”

“Just have a few drinks with him,” Fenris says, and Aveline groans some more.

I pat Fenris on the shoulder as he shrugs. “You tried, Fenris,” I say.

“Hawke, this is your fault,” Aveline states.

I splutter. “How?!”

“You told me to tell Donnic about the Convention!”

“Yeah, but you could’ve ignored me,” I insist. “Most people choose that course of action, you know. In fact, I strongly advise that –”

“Just walk me over later, okay?” Aveline says, with a heavy sigh. “ _Please_.”

I glance at Fenris, and he shrugs. “Okay,” I say. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that. I can… Escort.”

“Good.” Aveline’s satisfied. “Ugh, fuck. Isabela’s texting me. She knows I’m hiding. I’d best be off. Where is everyone?”

“Down the hall to the right of the entrance,” I say. “Fenris and I will head over there soon, too.”

Aveline clears her throat. “Oh. Am I, erm… Interrupting something?”

_Oh my fucking god._

_The irony_.

 _It stings_.

Fenris rolls his eyes and I want to fall to the grimy floor of this Convention Center… Much like my now-broken gauntlet.

“No! You are not interrupting anything at this point in time!” I say, loudly. “My gauntlet broke and I had to sit down.”

“Ah. I see,” Aveline says. “Sorry about the gauntlet. Oh! Fuck! Isabela is –”

**[Call Ended – Aveline Vallen]**

“She got caught,” I say.

“She did.” Fenris nods.

An awkward silence settles between us.

Now, see, I _could_ do something important right about now. I could definitely do something very important, but I still kind of want the grimy Convention Floor to swallow me whole. I also just noticed that the Darkspawn with the “Free Hugs” sign is lurking around in our general vicinity, which is nerve-wracking and a huge mood-killer.

So, I stand up.

“We should head back,” I say, grabbing the water-bottle-and-gauntlet-bag and my sword. “I have sufficiently mourned.”

“That’s good,” Fenris says, quietly, as he stands up, too. “Okay.”

The Hug-Hungry Darkspawn seems to be trying to get Fenris’ attention, but his eyes are kind of glazed over, as if he’s not paying attention to his surroundings.

I have to hold back a sigh of frustration. __  
  


~  
  


Luckily, Isabela, Bethany, Aveline and Donnic find us without any trouble. Carver catches sight of Alistair, who has somehow seamlessly blended into another Grey Warden group, and drags him back over to us, too.

Donnic and I don’t get to talk that much, but it’s painfully obvious that he likes Aveline a lot.

There’s a lot of… Wistful gazing.

They’re both obvious about it. It’s almost painful.

Zevran heckles his outfit, though. Not to Donnic’s face, of course (though I wouldn’t put that past Zevran)… He does it through texts. More specifically, through texts to me.

Lots of emoticons are involved.

I’m trying to suppress my laughter at one text that’s particularly accurate (utilizing the several eggplant emoticons, _please help me_ ) when Isabela gestures towards me. She’s huddled in a corner next to a wilted potted plant. Aveline’s at her side.

“What’s up?” I hide behind the potted plant, too. A dry, brown leaf whacks me in the face.

“So, I heard about Big Girl’s little _distress call_ ,” Isabela says. “Performed when she was locked away in the bathroom.”

“Keep your voice down!” Aveline hisses.

“You’re the one attracting attention to yourself, Vallen,” Isabela retorts. She waves at Donnic, who’s actually staring right at us. “By being so damn _sexy_ , of course.”

“ _Isabela_ ,” Aveline hisses, again, through clenched teeth as she waves at Donnic, too.

He waves back. Zevran then grabs his shoulder and starts talking to him about something, effectively distracting him.

“So, I’m confirming that Aveline has a date lined up tonight,” Isabela says. “At the Hanged Man. I will _undoubtedly_ get Donnic there, and you will _undoubtedly_ get Aveline through that fucking door, if it’s the last thing you do. Got it?”

I nod a lot. “Yeah. Yeah. Totally. Yeah. I’m on it.”

“One ‘yeah’ is fine, Kitten,” Isabela says with a little grin. “Anyway, I’ll have you know that we barely had to do any setting up. The romantic tension between those two is _disgusting_. We just have to get them somewhere romantic together.”

“Stop,” Aveline groans.

“The Hanged Man isn’t romantic,” I point out. 

Isabela gasps, putting a hand against her chest. “Garrett Malcolm Hawke, how dare you?”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” I laugh. “Leave Aveline to me.” I salute.

“Excellent – wait.” Isabela grabs my hand. “You broke your gauntlet?!”

I sigh in resignation. “Don’t remind me.”

“Ha! This is karma for being a dick about my boot last night,” Isabela says. She lets go of my hand.

“I regret nothing!” I announce.

“Whatever. Vallen, get back out there.” Isabela slaps Aveline on the back. Aveline looks like her soul has departed from her body. “You’re at a Convention with the best people ever, as well as your current romantic flame.”

“I’m glad that he’s not at our level,” I say. “Our level of _best people ever_ , I mean.”

“We can’t get too hasty,” Isabela states. “I might have to break his face.”

“Please don’t,” Aveline says, and Isabela just shrugs.

“Just letting you know that the option exists, if it’s needed,” Isabela states. “Now, come on. I want to buy some of that overpriced ice cream.”

“Do you _want_ to ruin your costume, Isabela?”

“Shut up, Gauntlet Boy.”

I let out a frustrated wail as Isabela grabs onto my arm and pulls me along, laughing.

I glance back at Aveline, who’s still by the potted plant. She’s shaking her head but laughing, too.

I really want everything to work out for her.

She’s had a rough time. She genuinely deserves stuff working out.

I hope she knows that.

~  
  


“This was a mistake,” Aveline says, inspecting herself in the mirror. “A total mistake.”

We’re back at the hotel – it’s 6p.m. Aveline’s getting ready for her little meeting with Donnic. The rest of Day Two went fine… We ended up hugging the “Free Hugs” Darkspawn (seriously, all of us, in a line), and I got dragged to a panel about Costume Design. All in all, it was a good time.

I was _incredibly_ relieved to change out of my costume, though – but that goes without saying.

I’m hungry now. Incredibly hungry, but helping Aveline comes first. I can pillage the hotel’s café later tonight.

“But you look so _good_!” Varric exclaims, from his bed. He’s surrounded by various bits of Convention merchandise. “Like the goddess of formal ass-kicking.”

She does. She’s wearing a white, long-sleeved dress shirt and flowy, dark-grey pants. Her hair is in a low, braided bun (courtesy of Merrill), and her black shoes are high-heeled and pointy.

She puts the rest of us, in our grubby post-Convention apparel, to shame.

She’s also glaring at Varric.

“Your very existence is inspiring,” he says, undeterred. “If you punched me in the face, I’d thank you.”

She grumbles something under her breath, blushing a bit.

Isabela leans in, inspecting her face. “Should we put makeup on her?”

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” Aveline says, pushing Isabela away. “He’ll know something’s up.”

“We want him to know that,” Merrill points out.

“Stop being such a _Garrett_ , Vallen,” Isabela drawls. Wait, what?! “No offense, Garrett.”

“Offense taken!” I splutter, and Isabela throws a pillow at me.

I still haven’t told them about the Fenris development. Anders is the only one who knows about it… And I did kind of agree to keep it secret, for now.

Plus, Aveline’s got her own stuff to deal with.

I’m fine with Fenris… I think.

I’m either really, _really_ fine, or the total opposite of fine.

Oh boy.

Anyway, he’s in the lobby right now, hanging out with everyone else. Isabela, Varric, Merrill and I are on Aveline duty.

“Is Donnic in position?” Varric asks, as he fiddles with a small figurine of a Bronto.

“Naturally,” Isabela retorts.

“How?” Aveline asks.

“I got his number,” Isabela replies. “That’s all you need to know.”

“What the _hell_ , Isabela?!” Aveline sits down, on the foot of Varric’s bed, and covers her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m a grown woman!”

“Contrary to popular belief, grown-ups are capable of emotions, Vallen,” Varric states.

She sighs. “I just – I can’t do this. I can’t.”

“Aveline!” Isabela puts her hands on Aveline’s shoulders, leaning down on her. “The man came to a _Convention_ for a game he doesn’t even _play_ so he could see you.”

“I invited him,” Aveline says, her voice muffled, since she hasn’t looked up yet. “It was Garrett’s idea. Blame him.”

“It was a damn good idea!” Isabela replies. “Tiger’s got your back!”

 _Tiger_! It’s been forever since she last called me that.

Merrill flashes me a thumbs-up. There’s still the ghost of the smiley face drawing on her face – I think Isabela accidentally used permanent marker to draw it on this morning.

“He’s almost definitely into you,” Isabela presses on. “Now, get going. Garrett’ll hold your hand.”

“I am an _excellent_ hand-holder,” I say. I mean it as a joke, of course, but I remember the events of last night.

Events which… Are secret, too.

A very rowdy Wicked Grace group chat is in my future, I’m pretty sure.

“Fine,” Aveline says, finally letting her hands drop. “Fine. If something goes wrong, you _better_ comfort me.”

“I’ll get my hands on several tubs of ice cream,” Isabela says, wisely. “I’ve got your back, Big Girl.”

Aveline smiles weakly and stands up. “Okay. Okay…” She exhales, slowly. “Let’s get going before I change my mind.”

Merrill cheers and claps her hands, and Varric emerges from his pile of merchandise.

“Alright, it’s lobby time.”

We all walk down there… To see everyone else huddled around a table.

“Oh my _god_ , are you playing Monopoly?” Isabela shrieks. “ _Without_ me?!”

“Good call,” Aveline says. “Last time we played, Isabela stole ton of fake-money. We didn’t notice for quite a while. It ruined the whole game.”

“How unsurprising,” Fenris says, with a little smirk. He’s not playing, but he’s sitting next to Amell, who looks very triumphant, dice in hand.

“I’m totally winning,” she says, smugly. “I have all the properties I need. My strategy is in full effect. I’ve _got_ this.”

“Fitting that the sell-out would be the master of _Capitalism: The Game_ ,” Anders remarks, and Amell pouts at him.

“Anders, your jealousy is showing again,” Sebastian says, very calmly.

“You – What? _Jealousy_?! You’re the –  the _jealous_ one!” Anders splutters.

“That was weak,” Fenris drawls.

“Quite,” Sebastian replies, and Anders flips him off.

“You look _very_ sexy, Aveline!” Zevran says, ignoring them. “You are finally heading off on your hot date, right?”

The entire group starts cooing and complimenting her, and Aveline frowns. “I’m going back to my room,” she says, and Isabela grabs her.

“No, you’re not,” she says. “Kitten, go.”

“Wait!” Anders suddenly yells. Everyone stares at him. “Wait, just – Garrett. I need to talk to you.” Everyone’s still staring. “In _private_. Quickly.”

He stands up and practically pushes me away from Aveline, to the other end of the lobby.

“Listen,” he says, as Varric hollers out something _incredibly_ suggestive, “You and Fenris. Dinner, together. Tonight. On me.”

“Seriously?!” I grin. “You know I –”

“– love free food more than anything else, barring Miles,” Anders finishes my sentence for me. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good.”

“You should get wine, though,” Anders says. “This place has shitty wine. Get some fancy crap that Fenris likes. He’ll _instantly_ forgive you for this trainwreck of a situation.”

“Oh,” I say. “Oh. That’s actually a good idea.”

“I know it is,” Anders replies. He sticks his hand in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Here.” He hands me some money. “That should cover it.”

“Seriously?” Free food! Free wine! I put the money in my own wallet.

“Yes. I _told_ you…” He sighs. “I _really_ am sorry. I truly am Anders, the Pitiful Sad Emoticon Man. Just make sure you two talk it out over dinner, or something.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Okay. Yeah. That’s a good plan. But what if –”

“I’ll be on guard duty,” he replies. “Just let me know when you’re going to eat and _no one_ will distract you.”

“You’re a mind-reader,” I say.

“No, I just know how you operate, Hawke,” Anders says. “Get a move on.”

I walk back over to the group, mouthing a “thanks” as he looks on.

“Are you ready _now_ , Garrett?” Aveline asks, impatient.

“Absolutely.” I hold my arm out comically, for her to grab on to.

She doesn’t, but she _does_ eye my arm scornfully.

“See you soon,” I say, as Aveline and I walk out of the lobby together. “Kick their asses, Amell!”

“Will do!” She calls out after me.

“Knock him dead, Vallen,” Varric also yells. Aveline sighs.

Outside is all orange and golden. The sun is setting, and the parking lot is mostly empty.

“What were you and Anders talking about?” Aveline asks as we walk past it.

“Absolutely nothing,” I reply, since Anders _did_ swear me to secrecy, earlier. She rolls her eyes. “I just have to pick up some wine at the Hanged Man.”

“A wine run? Fancy,” Aveline says.

“I’m always fancy,” I say, and she laughs. So hurtful…

“I can’t believe Donnic actually came to the Convention,” she says. “He surprised me.”

“Varric offered to teach him how to play the MMO,” I tell her – because that was a thing that happened, earlier.

“You’re kidding!”

“Don’t worry, Donnic declined. It was very polite.”

She sighs. “Whatever…”

Silence settles between us, though her heels do click against the sidewalk. Some cars drive by, but it’s a pretty quiet evening.

“How’s it going with Fenris?” She asks, suddenly.

I shrug. “I’m not sure.” It’s not a lie…

She looks at me very sympathetically. “I’m sorry. We were supposed to focus on you, and now –”

“Fenris isn’t going anywhere,” I say. “Seriously. You guys have done _so_ much for me. The least I could do is help with your Donnic situation… Even if it’s in a small way.”

“You big sap,” Aveline comments, but she’s smiling. “Well, I appreciate it. You’ve done a lot for me, too, Hawke.”

I immediately feel kind of bad for keeping her in the dark about Recent Fenris Developments, but… This is _her_ moment. I don’t want her to be saddled down with my baggage when she’s dealing with her own stuff.

I mean, Aveline used to be _married_. I never met Wesley, but he was a damn good guy, from what I heard. Her interest in Donnic is a big deal.

We eventually arrive at the Hanged Man. It’s weird, but I feel this sort of “home” vibe when I walk through its doors. I’ve only been here once, but… I guess that’s the power of good associations. I _need_ to remember to ask Varric about the videos he took during Wicked Grace’s bar escapades last night.

Aveline grabs my arm. “He’s here.”

Donnic’s here, all right. He’s sitting at the bar with his back to us, but I’d recognize those sideburns anywhere. He’s drinking something, too. It looks like whiskey.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Aveline says. “Just… Go get your damn wine.”

I nod and head over to the counter, while she essentially crab-walks around the perimeter of the bar, trying to avoid being seen. I can’t believe this…

I guess it’s best if I got this over as quickly as possible.

“Hey! Donnic!” I say, grinning as I walk up to the bar, next to where he’s sitting. “We just got back to the hotel. Aveline said you’d be here.”

“Oh.” Donnic blinks a few times. “Hey there. Yeah.”

Corff approaches and I place my order. It’s a wine called _Aggregio Pavali_ , since I think Fenris likes that kind best. It was what he was drinking last night, anyway. Regardless, Corff has to go get it “from the back,” apparently, which is strange, but… It’s the Hanged Man, so…

I just take a seat next to Donnic.

Once Aveline’s here, I’ll leave and let them have their little impromptu date.

He sips at his whiskey. Should I try wingman-ing for Aveline?!

This could be my only chance…

I might as well take it.

“So,” I say. “You and Aveline are close, right?”

He nods. “She’s my boss.”

“Oh, right!” I kept thinking they just worked together. “Well, what do you think of her?”

Okay, I can see why the rest of the guild loves tormenting me about Fenris. This is _really_ fun.

Donnic kind of squints at me. “She’s a very capable lady,” he says, slowly. “Strong backbone.”

“Yeah! That’s very true. The strongest backbone.” My phone chimes.  
  


**Aveline** (7:03p.m.):  
Hawke. I’m sorry. I can’t do it.  
I’m going back.  
I’m sorry!  
  
  
_What?_

“Fuck,” I say, and Donnic raises his eyebrows.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, and I lower my phone slowly.

“No. Nope. It’s nothing.” I can’t let him see the text. Oh my god, Aveline, why?!

“One bottle of _Aggregio_!” Corff re-appears from the storage room out back, wine bottle in hand. “Pay up, Hawke.”

How does he even know my name?! Bartenders are so mysterious… Or maybe Varric told him.

At any rate, I pay him with the money Anders gave me, and then I just… Sit there, with the bottle of wine on the counter in front of me.

Donnic finishes the last of his whiskey, then orders another one.

I should just go. I _know_ I should, but this is so sad! He’s sitting at a bar and drinking whiskey… Alone.

Dammit, Aveline! She should be here!

We sit in silence for a while. I don’t even order a drink.

Donnic clears his throat. “Listen, is this some kind of set-up thing?”

Crap! Did he figure it out? No!

“What?” I ask, laughing nervously.

“I mean,” he says, very slowly. “You and I, we’ve barely even talked, and Isabela said...”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“No, no, no, no!” I wave my hand dismissively. “Oh my god, you’ve got it all wrong. I swear.”

Donnic stares at me. “…If you say so.”

“No, seriously!” I start laughing. I can’t help it. “I’m gay.”

Donnic raises both eyebrows.

“Shit! No!” That didn’t help my case at all! “I mean – There was no setting up. Believe me. I’m not interested in you. Not even a little. You’re not my type at all. Your beard is… No.”

“Okay,” Donnic says, nodding. “That’s… Good?”

Shit, was that unintentionally mean? Well, I don’t care! He’s the one who made it weird!

“Yeah! Very good!” I can’t deal with this. “I’m heading back to the hotel though. Gotta meet up with some people. Enjoy your drinks!”

I practically sprint out of the bar, wine in hand. I can’t even hear his reply… If he bothered with one.

I stop speed-walking to whip out my phone.

 

 **Garrett** (7:10p.m.):  
Donnic just rejected me  
It was pretty painless.  
your worst case scenario isn’t so bad! :P

  
**Aveline** (7:10p.m.):  
What the fuck

 

That reaction.

It _totally_ destroys me.

I’m laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight and clutching the bottle of wine. A couple walks by and I can only imagine how much they’re judging me. At least the sun set, so it’s dark outside, now.

I’m not sure if laughing hysterically in the dark is any better, but… You know.

Wait… I can’t even see Aveline along this sidewalk. I mean, I stayed at the bar with Donnic for a while, but…

How did she get back to the hotel that fast? Did she actually _run_ back?

The mental image of Aveline sprinting back to the hotel is way too much – I start laughing all over again. There’s tears. I sound like a cartoon villain.

She can run fast, okay?!

She’s a policewoman! She’s athletic! I don’t think I’ve ever seen her run at her full potential…

Once I finally stop laughing like a maniac, I stuff my phone back into my pocket. I can explain stuff to her once I’m back. This is the price she must pay for backing out.

I start walking again, and though my laughter slowly dies down, I’m still smiling. The night air is refreshing, and my feet hurt but in the good way.  

I just feel very… Light. Unbothered. Not anxious about anything… And it’s all Wicked Grace’s fault. I fucking love it when we can all meet up, even if these zany situations happen. I mean, they happen often enough when we’re communicating through technology.

I can’t wait to tell Aveline what went down. She’ll lose it. I can’t even pretend to be mad about her ditching me.

Anyway, I’m almost back.

I grin up at The Amerid Inn’s tacky neon sign – the “E” and the “I” aren’t lit up, so it just says “AMRD INN.”

Typical.

That’s when I see him. Fenris.

He’s standing outside of the hotel, right at the edge of the parking lot.

He’s wearing a plain white sweater that’s way too big for him. His hair is messy and he’s staring up at the sky.

“Fenris!”

He looks away from the sky, towards me, and I’m close enough to see this smile break across his face.

He’s been smiling so much, lately. Laughing, too.

I’m so fucking glad.

I’m so fucking glad he’s here, in person, and that we can talk about how absolutely ridiculous this whole day’s been, with all the Donnic stuff and the Convention stuff and, hell, even our own stuff.

I’m glad I could get a break from my life back at home, with the Carpentry and the MMO and… Everything. A change of scenery is always nice, right? I’m glad that I can see him, beyond the monitor, beyond texts.

I love seeing him through the computer monitor and I love getting his texts. All of our conversations, all of the late nights we’ve spent hanging out online – those are important.

But…This?

This is also important.

I know he thinks so, too.

I’m walking as fast as I can.

I only stop walking when I’m right in front of him, close enough to feel his breath against me. Close enough to look right into his eyes.

“Gar –”

“Can I kiss you?”

His smile falters as he stares up at me, eyes wide.

“That depends,” he says, very slowly. “Will Isabela interrupt by lighting someone on fire?” His voice is shaky but I know he’s teasing.

“I don’t think so.”

“Or perhaps I should expect Anders to launch himself at us?”

“Not this time.”

The smile’s back. “Well then… By all means, Hawke.”

I lean down and press my lips against his.

He tastes like peppermint toothpaste and _warmth_ and he puts his hands in my hair, pulling me closer to him. It hits me – I’m _doing_ this, I’m kissing Fenris in the parking lot of what may just be the weirdest hotel ever, and the night is so, _so_ still. I have his favourite wine in one of my hands and his sweater is soft against the other, he must wear it a lot, and holy fuck this is actually happening, no one’s interrupting –

He says my name into the kiss. _Hawke_.

I break away, pressing my forehead against his forehead.

“I like you,” I blurt out.

“I know,” Fenris replies.

“I like you a lot.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

I might pass clean out. I step away from him, running a hand through my hair.

“I…” I inhale, sharply. “We just kissed.”

He chuckles. “I think we did, yes.”

“And nothing even exploded!” I’m incredulous. “The world didn’t come crashing down on us!”

“Not yet.”

I laugh and I sound kind of… Unhinged. Rein it in, Garrett. “I –” My voice is doing the squeaky thing. “I didn’t plan this, actually, so I’m not sure what I should do, now.”

Fenris bites his lower lip.

I hope I’m not bright red, but I feel warm, so I probably am.

“I... I got you wine!” I say, holding up the wine bottle. “…As an apology.”

Fenris furrows his brow. “An apology? For what?”

“Stuff just seemed… Awkward,” I say. “After we almost kissed or whatever, I thought maybe you were angry –”

“Of course I wasn’t,” Fenris snaps. Crap, did I say something wrong?! I must look worried because he sighs and grabs onto my arm. “Hawke. I was just frustrated.”

“Oh. Yeah. I was, too.”

“Right,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if you were still interested in me.”

“Of course I was!” I holler, and he seems taken aback. “I was embarrassed! I thought you were mad, so I wanted to give you some space.”

“Ah.” Fenris pinches the bridge of his nose. “I interpreted that _space_ as a lack of interest.”

…

“Shit,” I say.

“We both misread this entire situation, didn’t we?” Fenris grins crookedly.

“Yeah. We… We were a mess.”

“It can’t be helped.”

I still can’t believe we _kissed_. We _kissed_ , and now we’re just talking…

“Anders is gonna be so pissed,” I blurt out.

“What?”

Oops, that was random. “He was going to buy us dinner, so we could talk about… Stuff. It’s his way of apologizing for, uh, interrupting. He gave me money for the wine, too, by the way.”

“We can still have dinner,” Fenris says. “Anders doesn’t need to know about this. He still owes us, doesn’t he?”

 _Us_.

I have the goofiest smile on my face.

“He does,” I say. “Hang on, I’ll text him… Just so he knows we’re around.”

I send Anders a quick text saying that we were heading over for food, and Fenris reaches out and takes the wine bottle from me. When he sees its label, he makes a small, pleased sound.

“My favourite,” he says.

“I know,” I reply. “You had a bottle of it last night.” He also almost threw it across the street.

“Mhm. Very observant, Hawke.” Is he teasing me?! “It was better than the wine I bought at the hotel. No wonder that bar gets so much business.”

Wow. The Amerid Inn actually does have a shitty selection… Anders wasn’t kidding. I’ve said this before, but I’m the furthest thing from a wine expert. They all taste the same to me. Regardless, the _Aggregio Pavali_ definitely impressed him.

As Zevran would say, I’m _making the moves_.

This is a huge step up from my usual romantic endeavors.

Wait, I’m getting lost in thought. Fenris is staring up at me… He seems kind of spaced out.

I feel like my heart is in my _throat_. He’s so damn gorgeous, and… We kissed.

I can’t believe it. I just… I can’t get over it.

“So.” I clear my throat. “I’m starving.”

“Right. I know better than to keep you from food,” Fenris says. “Especially free food.”

“I’m so glad that _everyone_ knows just how enthusiastic I am about free food,” I say.

“Everyone loves free food, Hawke,” Fenris replies. “You take it to a whole new level.”

“I just don’t want people’s generosity to go to waste!” I insist. “I’m a hero, Fenris. Think about it.”

Fenris covers his mouth, laughing – his laugh makes me want to laugh, too.

I’m still spouting off ridiculous jokes as we turn back towards the hotel’s entrance... Together.

 _Together_.

~  
  


It’s six in the morning. It’s too early to be awake, but I am.

I’m also sitting at the hotel café… Again.

This time, Fenris isn’t here. He’s awake, though. He went on a hunt for some “proper coffee,” since the Amerid Inn’s coffee apparently tastes like dirt.

Anyway, Fenris might not be here (he _still_ doesn’t like breakfast very much), but I’m with a certain woman… A woman who stood up her date last night. A woman whose date _somehow_ rejected me.

Somehow.

“I’m _so_ sorry, Garrett,” Aveline says, for the tenth time… I’m not kidding, I’m actually counting.

“I told you,” I say, stuffing more scrambled eggs in my mouth. We’re the only ones in the café right now. “It’s all good.”

“ _How_ is it all good?!” Aveline’s sighs, frustrated. “I ran away. Donnic thought we set you up with him. I… I slept in Isabela’s room!”

“Did she actually get the ice cream?”

“She did, actually.”

“What flavor?”

“Cinnamon rum. Chocolate, too.”

“Nice!”

She slams her fist down on the table with a loud _thud_ and I drop my fork in shock.

“Aveline?!”

“Garrett Malcolm Hawke, stop trying to change the subject,” she snarls. “You’re not nearly as embarrassed as you ought to be.”

“I’m in a good mood!” I exclaim. “It’s not a big deal!”

Fenris and I had a nice night. A _very_ nice night.

It involved (more) soggy fried chicken, a burnt steak, a wilted, neglected salad, a bottle of wine… Then hand-holding… Some more kissing and another shitty pay-per-view cult classic.

So… Yeah. All in all? A nice night.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around how it actually… Happened.

Also, I can’t believe that Anders essentially paid for my first date(?) with Fenris. I didn’t see him, but our bill was covered and we weren’t interrupted… So he kept his end of the deal.

Aveline is staring at me, very critically.

I take another bite out of my scrambled eggs. “Y’know, these are pretty rubbery and – ”

“Did you have sex with Fenris?”

I spit the eggs out.

On the table, to be precise.

“ _What_?!” I scream.

“You heard me!” Aveline presses on. “Did you sleep with Fenris?!”

“Technically I _had_ to sleep with him because we didn’t know if you’d be back!” I’m still shrieking and probably covered in egg. “And no! I didn’t have – I didn’t – Listen! You don’t – it was just some kissing and –”

I stop talking.

I drop my fork.

Aveline sits back in her chair, _very_ satisfied.

“Got you,” she says.

“I hate you so much right now,” I reply.

“What, is it supposed to be some big secret?” She looks like she’s holding back a laugh. “I knew something was up. You’ve been way too happy, Hawke. Old-Garrett would have stormed into Isabela’s room, freaking out. I _knew_ –”

“Don’t go all detective on me!” I wail, wiping at my beard with a napkin. “And, no, it’s not a big secret but it’s not exactly something I want _out there_ yet. Fenris and I haven’t talked about that.”

“Ah.” Aveline smiles and neatly folds her hands on her lap. “This is exciting.”

“Don’t mock me, Aveline,” I mumble, wiping the egg off the table, now. “I’m fragile right now.”

“I’m not mocking anyone!” She insists. “Besides, I owe you one, don’t I? Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.” Aveline isn’t an absolute _goddess_ for nothing.

“You’re not off the hook yet,” she says. “I still want to know everything, Hawke.”

A goddess who’s pro at interrogation. “Is this how you treat the people you interrogate back at your station?”

She rolls her eyes. “No. I use _intimidation_ at the station.”

“Fine, fine…” I’m pretty intimidated right now, though. I mean, she hit the table _hard_ a few minutes ago. “What do you want to know?”

“When did you confess?” Aveline asks, monotonously. Her all-business approach is actually _hilarious_.

“Last night,” I say. “We had dinner together after. We almost kissed the night before, though. That’s why stuff was so awkward yesterday.”

“The night before – Oh.” She covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, fuck. Garrett. Did I…?”

“Nah, Anders ruined it before you could,” I say, picking at my scrambled eggs, which are becoming less appetizing by the second. “He paid for our dinner last night to make up for it, so it worked out.”

Aveline narrows her eyes. “Did Anders know before me?!”

“No!” I shake my head. “He just ruined our, um, potential first kiss? He doesn’t know that we’re… You know.” I don’t know how to label our current status…

Are we dating? I have no idea.

“Good.” Aveline’s pleased again. “I’m the first of the group, then.”

“Congratulations,” I say, dryly.

“It’s an honor.” She bows her head. “In all seriousness… I knew this would happen, but the lack of an active group chat right now is making it hard to keep tabs on you people.”

“I know, right?” It’s so ironic.

Aveline grins and knocks back the rest of her orange juice, right as someone jogs into the café.

They’re wearing a tank shirt that says “SUN’S OUT, GUNS OUT.” Carver has one _exactly_ like it… But that’s not Carver. Their hair is blond and they’re wearing one of those tacky sports headbands and bright yellow board shorts. They’re also talking to the waitress.

Once they’re done, they turn around, and –

“Garrett! Aveline!” – They’re actually Alistair. I guess he stole Carver’s shirt.

“Hey!” I wave across the café at him, and he jogs over to us.

“I saw you,” Alistair says, in lieu of an actual greeting. “Last night! With Frederick, in the parking lot. Congratulations!”

My heart sinks. Fuck.

I’m not even going to correct him on the name.

Just… Shit.

Aveline snorts. “Seriously, Garrett? _The parking lot_?”

“It was impulsive and very romantic, thank you very much!” I wail. I turn to Alistair. “Alistair. Did you tell anyone about this?”

This is a dangerous situation. If Alistair tells Carver, Zevran will likely figure out that Carver knows something he doesn’t. That’ll result in him bribing it out of my incredibly blackmail-susceptible little brother. If _that_ happens, Isabela will undoubtedly find out about us.

And if Isabela finds out about us, everyone will.

She has her ways.

“Nope!” He replies enthusiastically. “I was in a hurry. Did you know there’s a pizza buffet a few blocks away? The special ends early but I managed to catch it.”

 _Phew_. I’m safe for now.

Alistair’s weakness for cheese-related goods saved me.

“Is that where you got all the pizza we ate last night?” Aveline asks, and Alistair nods enthusiastically.

“Listen, Alistair,” I say. “ _Please_ don’t tell anyone about this. The thing with Fenris and me… It wasn’t what you think it is, okay?”

It actually totally _was_ that, but…

Alistair cackles. It’s a little disturbing. “You’re a bad liar. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Dammit! Yes! Constantly!” I throw my hands up in the air. It’s very dramatic.

“Keep it quiet, Alistair,” Aveline says, smoothly. “Or else.”

Alistair puts his hands on his hips. “Or else?”

“Or else,” Aveline repeats.

She really is intimidating when she wants to be.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I was just joking around, anyway. My lips are sealed!” He pretends to zip his mouth shut. It’s somehow very reassuring.

“Thanks,” I say. “Why are you even awake?”

“Just going for a run,” he says. “I thought I’d say hi, since you two are the only others awake.”

“Fenris is around, too,” I say. “He went on a coffee hunt.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him!” Alistair calls out. “And I’ll be sure to congratulate him, too.”

“ _Alistair_ ,” I hiss, and he laughs.

“Good job, Garrett!” He calls out, jogging away.

I guess he really did come here just to say hi.

He better not say anything weird to Fenris. He’ll call him _Frederick_ and freak him out, probably.

“What a strange guy,” Aveline comments. “Very earnest, though.”

“That’s youth,” I mutter.

“Okay, grandpa,” Aveline replies, rolling her eyes.

Her phone then vibrates.

She furrows her brow, confused, as she turns the display on.

“Is anyone else awake?” I ask, finally pushing the plate of scrambled eggs aside. Their rubberiness has bested me.

Aveline frowns. “Donnic, apparently.”

“Is he texting you?!” I lunge for the phone. Aveline effortlessly dodges me. Damn.

“Yes. We always wake up early, though. For work stuff.” She shrugs. “He wants to know if we can go for a morning walk.”

“You do!” I say. “You do. You absolutely do.”

Aveline groans. “Garrett…”

“The timing is perfect!” I have to convince her to go. “It’s early. No one will bother you, except maybe Alistair, but he’s jogging, so whatever. Also! We’re not dressing up in costumes today, so you’ll have more than enough time to talk with him.”

She frowns.

“You owe me,” I say.

“I most certainly do not!” She’s all indignant, now. “I agreed to keep your secret!”

“It’s not exactly a secret,” I point out. “Anyway, you’ll feel better if you just talk to him. Believe me.”

She doesn’t seem to believe me, but she sighs.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” I cheer. “You’ve got this, Aveline. He adores you.”

“Whatever. I have to go meet him now, then,” she says, standing up. “He’s staying in another hotel. It’s nearby and, apparently, significantly less shit.”

“The Amerid Inn is the best place on this planet,” I say. “It’s second only to the Hanged Man.”

Aveline shakes her head. “You’re too much.”

I grin and stand up, too. “You know I’m right.”

“Sure.” We walk out of the café, and Aveline stops me right before I talk to the waitress about the bill. “I’ve got this.”

 _Oh my god_.

“Free food?!”

“Garrett, relax.”

“That’s – That’s _two_ free meals.” I’m going to cry. “In a _row_. Oh my gosh. Wait! I should’ve had more bacon… Is it too late to –”

“Yes. It is,” Aveline says as she pays the waitress. Said waitress is giggling, either at my theatrics, or Aveline’s generally dazzling presence.

“Damn. Next time, then,” I say.

“Yes, Hawke,” Aveline says. “Next time.”

~  
  


I step outside of the hotel. The morning air feels… Weird. Kind of nauseating, to be honest, but… Nice, I guess. I’ll never be a morning person.

Aveline left to meet with Donnic a few minutes ago, and Fenris just texted me to say that he’s finally back. I see him making his way across the parking lot, drinks in hand, and I’m smiling goofily all over again.

I can’t get over him… I just can’t.

I speed-walk over to him, and he looks at me quizzically.

“I was coming to meet you, Hawke,” he says, smiling. He’s wearing a leather jacket (I know… I’m honestly the luckiest person in the world right now, I have no idea how the fuck this happened to me) and old jeans that are a little torn in some parts. Leave it to him to make ratty old jeans look fucking amazing.

“I couldn’t resist your charm.”

“My charm? I was just walking.”

I groan. “Fenris! I’m being smooth, can’t you tell?!”

“Sorry. I can.” He chuckles. “Here. For you.” He hands me one of the drinks – it’s in one of those fancy to-go coffee cups.

He’s so sweet. He’s so _damn sweet_.

“I want to keep this coffee forever,” I say.

I mean, I’m not just saying that. I do want to save it, because I'm _sentimental_ , but... I also can’t drink it. I can't drink coffee. I don’t want to tell him that, though.

I _could_ force it down… Though I’d be leaping off the fucking walls for the entirety of Day Three.

Is it worth it? Is _Coffee-Garrett_ worth it?

“That’d be extremely unsanitary, for one thing,” Fenris says. “And, additionally – it’s not coffee. It’s hot chocolate.”

Oh my god.

“I know you can’t drink coffee, Hawke,” Fenris huffs. “Who do you think I am?”

He’s the best.

“You’re the best,” I inform him as I chug the hot chocolate. It’s so _good_ …

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You have some in your beard.”

 _Dammit, Garrett_!

“No! Don’t look at me!” I turn around on my heel abruptly, scrubbing at my beard with my free hand.

“You’re ridiculous,” Fenris says, affectionately, as I turn back around to face him. “It’s still there.”

“Darn! I tried so hard, too!” I’m laughing and he’s laughing and, ugh. He looks so relaxed and happy. I want to kiss him.

It’s seven in the morning and I just want to kiss Fenris.

The best thing about this situation is that I totally can.

I _can_ kiss him. I can do that.

So... I do.

I don’t think about it. I don’t freak out about coming on too strong, or about my lack of experience, or about how the rest of my friends would react if they saw us together like this.

I just… _Do_.

I lean down and press my lips against his.

He tastes like coffee. I hate coffee so much, but I like Fenris _way_ more than I hate coffee. So much more. Does that make sense?

Maybe coffee isn’t so bad.

We break away and he’s still laughing.

“Wow. How cute.”

Someone says that.

The thing is, I’ve never heard that voice before in my life.

I step away from Fenris, turning around, and…

It’s just some guy.

He’s smiling, but in a fake way. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Who are you?” Fenris’ voice is completely different. I’ve never heard it like this before. It’s icy and…

Guarded.

There’s no trace of laughter in it.

“No need to be so hostile, Fenris,” he says. “We have mutual friends.”

Fenris goes completely rigid. All of the color drains out of his face.

I clench my hand into a fist.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY BACK!  
> thank you so, so, SO much for all of the lovely comments and kind words, everyone. seriously. i can't even *begin* to describe how thankful i am. ;_; your support means the world to me, i'm not kidding in the slightest. and, also - thank you so much for your patience!!! i hope that you enjoyed the update. PLEASE offer a round of THUNDEROUS applause for MARY aka snoot, whose services as beta continue to be unmatched. 
> 
> also, before i go: here's a quick reminder that [the wicked grace blog](http://goodwithwood.tumblr.com/) exists! thanks, guys. :^)


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